Broken
by 2tailswaggin
Summary: 2007 HouseCameron FanFic Award Winner! Sequel to Happiness. Brought together by House's detox, an unfortunate event challenges their new relationship.
1. Chapter 1

Answering the same questions over and over from relatives and family friends that she hadn't seen in years isn't how Allison Cameron would have chosen to spend her Saturday evening, but she wouldn't have missed Sam's graduation for anything.

And if it took being asked 'have you met any handsome doctors?' once every eighteen point two minutes, it was worth it. She was so proud of Sam. She and her younger brother had always been close, but they had only grown closer as they left their childhood and grew into adults.

Cameron always knew how hard he tried; at everything he did. And as many times as he fell short, she always believed some day his perseverance would pay off in a big way. And now it had.

Sam had graduated at the top of his class while earning his Masters' Degree in Chemical Engineering and had already accepted a research and development position with a large pharmaceutical company in Chicago.

Cameron, finally being left alone for a moment, sipped on her glass of traditional red party punch as she watched her father, for probably the sixth time in the past two hours, proudly stride up to whoever Sam was talking to at the moment; slap his arm around his son's shoulder and declare how proud he was of him. And on at least four of those occasions Allison had caught Sam searching for her in the crowd just so he could give her one of their knowing glances.

It's easy - and proper - to boldly exclaim your pride over your children on their graduation day. It's just what is done. And this family had that act down so well Cameron figured they could no longer separate it from reality.

She didn't really doubt that her parents were proud of both her and of Sam in their own way. But children don't learn from what their parents tell them. They learn from what they see them do. And she and Sam had grown up watching their parents to go great lengths to appear to others to be something they were not.

Robert and Patricia Dunbar and their two lovely children had their acts together. Or that's the way it always appeared from the outside. Cameron and Sam knew different.

"Allison, dear?" she heard her mother calling from behind her.

Cameron had been cornered by a second cousin who she'd embarrassingly forgotten the name of and who was boring her with digital pictures of her kids on her cell phone.

"Well, it was good to see you again," she smiled and lightly touched 'Andrea's' shoulder then turned towards her mother as she walked towards her with two strangers in tow.

"You remember Dr and Mrs Stevenson, don't you?" her mother said with a strong emphasis on the word doctor.

Cameron smiled politely, "No. I don't believe I do."

"Oh sure you do, Allison," her mom chuckled out as if a little embarrassed, "They lived down the block from us when we lived over on Jefferson."

"No, I'm sorry I don't. But it's nice to meet you."

"Paula and I count money at the church on Mondays together," her mom said with a hint of pride in her voice and facial expression.

"Uh huh," Cameron responded, trying to act interested.

"And Dr Stevenson has a private practice over in Rockford."

"I see," she nodded extending her hand to the older gentleman, "it's nice to meet both of you."

"Allison is working in a very prestigious department of diagnostics at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital in New Jersey. You know, at Princeton University?"

Her mom never neglected to leave that little detail out when speaking about her, especially to anyone who she thought had any status in the community.

"Ah, well I'm impressed," Dr Stevenson said smiling at Cameron.

"Well, it's just a fellowship," she politely explained while her thoughts easily slipped to House.

"Congratulations and good luck," he returned.

While Patricia and Paula started to discuss their social plans for Monday, and Dr Stevenson scanned the crowd for better conversation, Cameron turned and started looking for Sam. Once she spotted him, she made her way towards him and tapped him on the shoulder opposite the one she was standing next to.

Sam looked directly at her and said with an unimpressed grin and a tilted face, "Lame."

"You really did earn that Magna Cum Laude didn't you?" she said as she reached up to ruffle his shaggy brown hair.

Sam spread the widest and proudest smile across his face.

"Hey, I've had all the 'have you met anyone?' questions that I can take for one day," as her fingers gestured to quote 'have you met anyone' with her eyebrows raised and sarcasm on her features.

"And I've already ran into everyone I wanted to talk to. Which was all of about four people."

"Tell me about it," he quickly agreed.

"So," Cameron drew out, "tomorrow? Breakfast? Nine o'clock? The usual?"

"I'm there," he grinned again.

Sam towered over her. He had ever since he grew at least a foot the summer before his sixteenth birthday. He was clearly built like their dad, but had the soft features of their mom.

Cameron reached up and gave Sam a hug, "I'll _always_ be proud of you," she whispered.

"I'll try not to be too hung over," he yelled after her as she walked away then caught the disapproving glance of his mother.

* * *

Cameron sat alone in a vinyl, cracked, red booth at a diner sipping on the worst cup of coffee she'd had in months. This was the classic greasy spoon. Complete with cigarette fumes wafting over from the section they tried to designate for smokers and the constant clattering of plates, glasses and silverware being placed on tables or dumped into the bus tubs and the hissing of cold, wet objects being thrown on a hot grill.

They had starting coming here after Cameron had moved out of the house and into the dorm on campus. It was an obvious choice since they offered all-you-could-eat pancakes for three dollars and ninety-nine cents from two to four o'clock on the weekdays. It was the only place she could afford to take her little brother.

Here they could get away from the cosmetic fantasy that was their family. This is where they'd meet when Sam was about to bring home a D on his report card, when he didn't make the basketball team, or on the rare occasion that he'd gotten detention for fighting at school. They both knew going home would include either the 'we're so disappointed in you' or the 'what will others think of you' speech and they'd come here to avoid going home for as long as possible.

And the support was a two-way street. While Cameron never had trouble with discipline or grades, there were so many expectations put on her but she rarely felt she met any of them.

While she waited for Sam to arrive, the strongest of memories that invited themselves in, rudely and unwanted, were those associated with Blake, their marriage, and his fight with cancer.

There'd been a lot of secrets shared between her and her brother here.

"Alli!" Sam hooted from the other end of the restaurant as he walked through the doors.

"Hey Sammy," she drew out with an ornery grin. Ever since the eighth grade when Sam felt he was finally a 'man' he refused to be called Sammy.

He plopped down in the booth opposite her and slid halfway in with a creaky squeak.

"Breakfast is on you."

"Hey, I don't start for a month and I'm flat broke."

"You're always broke," Cameron grinned.

"Well, this time I really am, and will be for the next several years," Sam answered rolling his eyes.

"Tell me about it," she laughed lightly.

Sam took no time leaning in, just like he'd done a hundred times before when there were secrets to be told, "How's the boss?" he mumbled as if he was on a top secret mission and someone from across the room might actually be trying to read his lips.

"Bossy," she returned, failing to convince Sam he wasn't getting any more than that.

"Uh huh," he responded knowingly, sitting back in his seat while nodding his head with eyebrows raised, "I bet he is."

"Grow up, Sammy," she returned with annoyance but the grin on her face was giving her away.

"At the risk of jinxing it, I'll just say things are going okay. The detox seemed to take and we're taking things one day at a time."

The pestering look disappeared from Sam's face, "That's good enough for me."

"Because all you have to do is say the word and I'm in New Jersey giving this guy a real reason to limp."

"Tough guy," Cameron said as she regretfully took another sip of her drink.

"Don't get the coffee," she choked out.

"Why is it every time you come here you order the coffee thinking _this_ time it might actually be good?"

"No idea," she laughed lightly.

They spent the next two hours catching up on each other's lives. They'd always kept in contact over the phone and over email but for the past few months she had been distracted with work and with House and Sam was busy working on his thesis. They had a lot of ground to cover.

Four stacks of pancakes, half a pound of bacon, three glasses of chocolate milk and barely a quarter of a cup of coffee between them later they stood outside in the parking lot hugging their good-byes.

"You take care of yourself, Alli."

"You too, Sam."

A couple of tears welled in Cameron's eyes while she watched her baby brother drive away. She couldn't be more proud, and she knew nothing could ever come between them.

* * *

With a piece of toast hanging out of his mouth, House pulled on his jacket, grabbed his backpack and helmet and headed out the door. Spring had taken its time coming to New Jersey this year but today was promising to be one of the warmest days they'd seen in months. He couldn't wait to climb on his bike and take the long and completely impractical route into work.

Walking into the conference room, he saw Cameron's laptop on the table and her jacket over the back of the chair. When she hadn't returned by the time he'd prepared his cup of coffee and sorted through his mail, he suspected Cuddy had recruited her for clinic duty since they didn't have a case.

House stopped by Wilson's office for no good reason other than he enjoyed bothering him in the mornings when he knew he tried to get his paperwork done. Something that House wasn't familiar with.

"I see Cameron's back in town," Wilson offered since he didn't have any new gossip to share.

"Guess so," House answered distracted by the bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit lying on Wilson's desk.

He caught House's eyes locking onto his breakfast like a vulture locks onto its dead prey, so he quickly wrapped the sandwich back up in its crumpled and greasy paper and put it in his top desk drawer.

"Nice," House grumbled.

"There's a cafeteria downstairs. Go get your own," Wilson said in a drawn-out tone that sounded like he'd said those very words hundreds of times before.

"Kill joy," House mumbled as he walked out of the office leaving the door open only to piss him off.

Downstairs, House quickly scanned the assignment board then walked into Exam Room One, gave the patient an annoying glance and took the chart from Cameron. He scanned it for details and announced, "Lactose intolerant.

Switch to soy. It's great for menopause."

House then shifted his eyes to Cameron, "need you," and without further explanation he disappeared as quickly as he'd appeared.

He leaned sideways against the reception desk impatiently drumming the end of a pencil on the countertop while watching the exam room door.

Cameron excused herself as she walked out and took her time to make an unnecessary stop to drop off her patient's chart before acknowledging House's stare.

"Good call Sherlock, except she's not going through menopause. She's only thirty-five years old." She wandered towards him pulled her lab coat open and placed her hands firmly on her hips but no gesture of annoyance could mask the grin that she was fighting to hide.

"And by the way, hello." She punctuated tilting her head slightly to one side.

"She will be soon enough," he shot back.

"And now she's in there…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," House said with his eyes closed in one of his annoying ways of shutting others up, "we've got work to do." He jerked his head towards the hallway then limped through the clinic lobby doors and towards the elevator while Cameron followed.

"You missed me, admit it," she teased while looking ahead, hands sunk into the pockets of her lab coat, watching the elevator doors come between them and everyone else in the hospital.

Of course that was a rhetorical suggestion since House would never admit to any such thing.

"We need to sort through the pile of applicants. Cuddy is bitchy that I haven't hired anyone to replace Foreman yet."

Silence commanded the space between them until the light moved from floor two to floor three and she finally turned to him and offered, "Well, I missed you."

Work had developed an intriguing new dimension ever since he and Cameron had crossed the lines of their employee-employer relationship.

Cuddy had taken the news better than expected. Her initial reaction was to squeal about how inappropriate it was to be sleeping with a subordinate until those unsightly masculine veins protruded from her neck, but she got over it when she realized it was a small price to pay in exchange for keeping House and Cameron employed in her diminishing Diagnostics Department. A department - House quickly reminded her - that brings in more than seventy-five percent of the donor dollars given to the hospital.

But Cuddy's response was no more serious than a Dean of Medicine's obligatory reaction since their relationship really came as no surprise to anyone after they had gone through House's detox together. House suspected that Cuddy still felt a bit guilty over suspending him, but the board had given her no choice and in the long run, it had gotten him off of the Vicodin. But House kept that particular guilt card in his hand for later use.

House's new pain management regiment was keeping things tolerable, and while his addiction to the escape that the opiates offered still taunted him, the low-dose Naltrexone kept the physical urges to use at bay.

Cameron picked up the file on House's desk and absently flipped through the dozen or so resumes.

House walked up behind her, noticing the shine in her hair as the sun filtered in through the window blinds. She wore it down more than she ever used to but he never commented on how much he liked the change.

He surprised her when he, as quietly as he could with a cane and a limp, stepped into her space causing her to catch her breath.

"I might have missed you a little," he said softly by her ear.

House sensed her body tense in anticipation of what he was about to do. He let her imagine for a moment before he pulled her hair slightly to the side and placed a kiss on the delicate curve between her shoulder and neck.

"Might have, huh?" She laughed softly then returned her attention to the resumes.

"But like you said," she turned on her heel and quickly shifted both eyebrows up and then back down, "we've got work to do." She walked past him, into the conference room and sat down in one of the empty chairs.

By late afternoon, they'd narrowed the candidates down to three resumes. That didn't include the one applicant that Cuddy had already scheduled for an interview before consulting House.

"You're coming over tonight?" He questioned as he lifted his jacket off of the coat hook.

"Being gone for the weekend really put me behind at home," she answered half looking away from her laptop but keeping her attention on what she was doing there.

Cameron spent most of her time out of work at House's apartment. While things evolved, his place is where they had always gone so it just kind of stayed that way. Everything so far about how things had progressed had the same sense of ease about it which, for House, had been unexpected.

He'd envisioned Cameron to be the pandering and needy type that always wanted to do annoying things for him but it hadn't turned out that way at all. She was surprisingly independent. And the independence she seemed to be feeling at the moment wasn't amusing him.

He'd missed her softness while she was away. Nothing about House's life was soft before Cameron got so close to it. She was gentle and caring but she could be as much of a slouch as he could be when it came to taking care of the apartment or spending an entire Saturday on the couch watching a Tick marathon on the Cartoon Network. Granted there were a lot of her soft things around his place now, but it just wasn't the same as her being there.

"I could come over to your place for a change?" He offered.

"Sure," she clipped out, still concentrating on her laptop.

He shrugged on his leather jacket and held his helmet up high enough for her to see over the monitor.

"I brought the bike today," he said as if coaxing a puppy with a biscuit.

The clicking of her fingernails on the keyboard stopped immediately as she slowly lifted her eyes from what she was doing.

"This can wait," she said quickly clicking her mouse no less than three times before shutting things down.

House knew she couldn't resist the bike. Sometimes he wondered if he'd be half as cool in her eyes without it, but he quickly dashed those thoughts from his mind. He did have it. And he looked hot on it; especially with Cameron on the back.

She shoved her things into her bag then shoved her bag into his backpack. House slung his pack over his shoulder while Cameron threw her jacket on and took the helmet.

"You're so easy," he smirked and held the door open for her.

Cameron smirked back without saying a word and they headed for the parking lot.

* * *

The sun was bright and warm as she strapped House's helmet on. She hated seeing him ride without one but this opportunity was just too long in coming. The weather had kept them from riding for at least a month and even then the sting of the cold air took the fun out of it.

But today was perfect.

House climbed on first, lifting his right leg up and over the gas tank. He clipped his cane on and adjusted himself on the seat before starting up the engine.

He gave it a good rev and coyly smiled over at her. Cameron smiled back.

She put on his backpack and climbed on.

She wrapped her arms low around his waist and shifted into him. There were so many things about riding on the back of his bike that she loved, and this was one of them.

She hoped he wouldn't try showing off his self-proclaimed 'uber riding skills' but she knew better than to say anything. House called his own shots - that was clear. She chose her battles and this wasn't going to be one of them. So she held on tight and enjoyed the ride and the warmth of the spring sun warming her shoulders.

She had really missed him while she was away. Especially since she'd spent the time away from him with her parents in the home she'd spent the later part of her childhood in. She'd changed so much since med school, moving to Princeton and especially while working for House. She just wasn't the Allison Dunbar that her parents had tried to mold her into so many years back. Over time she started to feel like a stranger in a strange home on the rare occasion that she'd visit. Her thoughts frequently went to House when she felt like she no longer belonged there.

Things had been going surprisingly well for them. She knew there was still a lot to him that she had no idea about but she also knew it was the same for her. Neither of them had tried to uncover the other's histories and so far, the level they were at at the moment, it was working for her. And by all indications, it seemed to be working for him too.

She knew there would come a time when dangerous territories would have to be explored, but she wasn't in any hurry to get there. She suspected House just assumed he knew everything about her so she let him believe that, for now at least.

In the now, the mediocrity of every day life, they were real and honest with each other, and that was enough. But their time together had been fairly short, less than six months, and she knew this sort of blissful ignorance wouldn't last forever.

When House took a left on Spring Road, she knew he was taking the long way to her place. She hugged her arms around him tighter than they had been and he soon opened up the throttle and they practically flew down the straight and open stretch of road.

They could ride like this for the next hour and she wouldn't mind. And they did.


	2. Chapter 2

Cameron unlocked the door to her place. House walked in while she stepped down the hall to pick up her mail.

"Your place is a mess!" he yelled towards the open door with a pain-in-the-ass kind of tone so Cameron could hear him.

"I know. I'm never here," she explained as she came through the entryway, unaffected by his comments, flipping through her mail and shutting the door behind her. House just looked at her and shook his head, wondering what he was going to have to do today to get a reaction out of her. He enjoyed getting reactions out of her, it was a hobby of sorts for him.

"If you're never here, then you're never here to mess it up," he poked at her skewed logic.

Cameron looked up from her bills just long enough to roll her eyes at him. Finally.

There was a stack of what looked like dirty laundry on the end of the couch and a clean basket-full on the floor. The rest of the couch was covered by an overnight bag that had apparently exploded. There were groceries, some of them still in the bags, scattered across her kitchen table and a few dirty dishes in the sink.

House wandered about the apartment noticing things like what kind of food she'd bought and the headlines on the few magazines she had scattered around. Then he slid his finger across the CDs on her bookshelf while scanning for any new albums she might have bought. He stopped bothering to check out her DVD collection. He'd never found anything interesting - nothing that wasn't a sappy love story or a Pilates workout. He occupied himself with these things while Cameron finished sorting her mail and listened to portions of the sales calls on her answering machine before hitting the delete button on each one of them.

"I really should just disconnect this thing," she mumbled, not really expecting him to be paying attention, "no one that I want to talk to ever calls me here."

"So what's for dinner?" House interrupted before she continued rambling to herself.

"No idea. Go see if there's anything interesting out there," she gestured towards the kitchen while sorting through the exploded bag.

House had already caught sight of the kitchen. He crunched up his face and said, "Let's order out."

"Fine with me."

Three quarters of a large pepperoni pizza, two beers each, and two loads of laundry later House sat on the end of the now debris and laundry-free couch watching Ultimate Fight Club while Cameron dropped her final basket on the floor in front of the television.

She sat down heavily next to him. "That'll just have to wait for later. I'm tired."

"You're coming to my place tomorrow. My laundry is backed up too." He downed the last drink of the last beer in the apartment.

Cameron elbowed him lightly and looked at him, "just what did you _do_ all weekend?"

"I did…stuff," he explained, then turned to her and added as if she wouldn't relate, "guy stuff…with Wilson."

She lifted his arm and put it around her shoulders then snuggled in close to him. House turned his attention back to the TV.

"My parents make me nuts."

Cameron never talked about her parents and it intrigued him in a purely curious kind of way.

"I just don't belong there anymore," she continued.

House was silent and started changing the TV channels trying to find a diversion that would end this conversation before she pressed for it to become two-sided.

A few moments later, she spoke up again, "it sure was nice to see Sam though."

"Yeah…" was all House said in return.

Cameron slid both arms around his waist while he pulled her in closer, relieved that the notion about discussing their families had seemed to pass.

"You're going to fall asleep aren't you," he said looking down in her direction.

"I could," House heard her mumble while he flipped the TV back to UFC hoping he didn't miss the end of the fight.

Cameron could fall asleep quicker than House thought humanly possible without having some rare disease. In the beginning, he had only mildly amused her when he tried to start a differential about her 'condition'. But while solving that puzzle might be interesting, he'd leave any possible treatment alone. What guy wouldn't consider himself lucky to be with a girl that fell sound asleep directly after sex. Either way, he still found it fascinating.

A while later, he turned off the TV and sat quietly in the dim room lit only by one light in the corner with his head resting on the back of the couch.

His life had taken such a turn for the better over the past six months. He had resolved that too much shit had happened in his life for him ever to be happy, but sitting here now felt like the closest thing to it that he could recall.

His mind wandered trying to predict all the things that could and would go wrong if Cameron didn't have her place anymore and she just moved her things into his. That's when things always got messy.

Inching towards that kind of commitment meant someone else paying for your shitty mistakes and you paying for theirs. And he had made – and paid for - his share of shitty mistakes. Now for the first time in a long time, someone was in his life that he didn't want paying for the shitty mistakes he was bound to make in the future.

The voices in his head finally called a truce and House decided to put any more ideas about anyone moving anywhere out of his mind indefinitely.

"What are you thinking about?" she broke into this thoughts. She'd been so quiet he had assumed she had actually fallen asleep.

"Nothing," was his simple answer and Cameron knew better but he was glad when she didn't press him for more.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"What?"

When he didn't answer she lifted her head and looked up at him. And when she did, he leaned down and kissed her.

Cameron straightened up and began returning his kiss while he brought her closer and lifted his other hand to touch her cheek with his fingertips.

The kiss continued and grew more intense as Cameron moved to carefully straddle his lap.

But he regretfully whispered into her mouth, "this never turns out good."

A few moments later, he left her kiss, leaned back, and looked into her eyes.

He lifted his eyebrows in a propositioning kind of way and Cameron laughed lightly.

"Okay," she said playfully acting disappointed and pushing herself up and off of him and the couch.

She grabbed one of his t-shirts off of the stack of clean laundry and walked into the bathroom.

House lifted himself off of the couch, grabbed his cane, and made his way to her bedroom. He sat down on the edge of her bed and kicked his shoes off and removed his shirt.

Just as he stood up to unbuckle the belt around his jeans, Cameron came out of the bathroom and flipped off the remaining light in the apartment wearing his t-shirt and nothing else.

"I've got that," she said removing his hands from his belt and taking over unfastening it and removing his jeans.

He slid both hands under her shirt and started to lift it up and over her hips. He rested his hands there and leaned in and started kissing her again while he laughed, "I'm not sure why you bothered to put this thing on."

Cameron snickered lightly, "me either."

* * *

Cameron woke up to the sun just beginning to place thin streaks of light on the wall across the room. She sat up on her elbow and squinted at the clock on the nightstand. She snuggled back down next to House placing her head on his chest and laying her left arm across his stomach mindlessly running her fingertips across his bare skin knowing she had a few more minutes before the alarm would go off.

She closed her eyes and listened to his breathing. Just when her mind started to drift back to sleep, she heard the pulsing buzz of the alarm.

She nudged House, "will you get that?" After all, the clock was on his side of the bed.

He only groaned but nothing more.

"You don't even have to move. Just reach over and turn it off…please?" She pleaded sleepily against his chest.

Nothing, again.

So Cameron, only slightly entertained that anyone can sleep so sound, lifted herself up and practically crawled across him to quiet it. She hardly thought about the need to be careful not to jolt his leg. That came as second nature to her now.

When she started to move back to her warm spot next to him, House put his hands on her hips and silently encouraged her to stay on top of him, showing a little more strength than there should have been in a person that had been asleep just two seconds ago.

Cameron relented to his request then let out a little chuckle and folded her arms across his chest, resting her chin on her hands, and looked at him.

"How long have you been awake?" she accused.

"Long enough to hear you snoring," he grinned finally opening one eye to look at her then closing it again.

"You're a real pain in the ass."

"I know," he lifted the blankets back up to her shoulders and locked his hands around the small of her back.

The warmth of the blankets on her back felt good again. And the warmth of his bare skin that was pressed up against her front felt even better.

Her place was located in one of the older parts of Princeton that had undergone a neighborhood-wide renovation. The result was these quaint little apartments with a lot of character but also a lot of drafts. It got chilly in her bedroom at night and House always used it for an excuse to stay at his place. Cameron just figured it was because he didn't want to be the one lugging his things back and forth all the time. Maybe someday there would be a time when she didn't have to either.

House was showing no signs of getting out of bed anytime soon so she slid her hands under his back and up to his shoulders then rested her head on his chest as her hair draped over his arm.

Cameron kicked the mundane tasks of the day that were soon going to demand her attention out of her mind and solely concentrated on this moment and the small details of it. The feel of his warm skin on hers, his breath finding its way to her shoulder, his scent, the slight rise and fall of her body as he breathed. Even after almost six months, there was nothing mundane about this. She was content to lay here as long as the rest of the world would let her.

"It's not like you to be awake so early. You okay?"

"Damn leg woke me up."

"I should have rubbed it down for you last night," she lifted her head and looked at him again.

House finally opened both eyes and looked into hers, "you were tired."

Cameron glanced over at the clock then back at him.

"Didn't Cuddy schedule an interview with that other applicant this morning?"

"If he wants the position bad enough, he can wait," House grumped sleepily.

Cameron placed a quick but meaningful kiss on his dry and sleepy lips before gently rolling off of him.

"Hey, I said he can wait," he whined and lifted his head to look at her.

Reaching for his t-shirt that was lying on the floor beside the bed, she offered, "how about that massage now?"

She slipped it on and walked around to his side of the bed while he shuffled to the middle and mumbled, "damn leg."

She sat down on the edge, with one leg tucked beneath her and reached under the covers to find his right thigh. House lifted his arms behind his head and closed his eyes as she began to slowly work the pain out of what muscle he had left there.

This never relieved the pain completely, but it helped make things tolerable while the over-the-counter pain medicine and frequent soakings in the therapy pool at the hospital also did their part. Cameron still enjoyed doing this for him. Watching him be so miserable in the days before he attempted pain management had always been difficult. Now being an active part of helping him pleased her.

Not that she wouldn't rather his pain be gone altogether like those few months he had to enjoy after the Ketamine. She thought back to the times when House would join her running and how much hope there had been. But that was likely to never happen again.

Twenty minutes later, Cameron suddenly looked over at the clock.

"The applicant can wait but you'll still have to deal with Cuddy. We're late," she said adding the last few squeezes then replacing the covers.

"What the hell was she thinking setting this up for 9 o'clock?" House said not wanting to open his eyes or move from his position.

"I know what the hell she was thinking," he added as he slowly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"She gets off on pissing me off," he finally mumbled mostly to himself since Cameron was already in the bathroom leaning over the sink regarding herself in the mirror.

* * *

"Didn't we leave your helmet over here last time?" He yelled to her from the kitchen where he was hunting for anything that even vaguely resembled breakfast.

"I think it's in the coat closet," she yelled over her hair dryer.

House always felt some pride in how he could manage to get in the shower after Cameron and still be ready before her.

Like it was some kind of race or something. He thought she was just as beautiful on the days when she didn't spend half an hour in front of the mirror as the days when she did so he's not sure why she bothered to waste the time, but it was clearly a girl-thing.

Finally giving up on breakfast, he shrugged his jacket on and handed her his bag that had been left untouched since last night and her helmet as she walked out of the bathroom and towards the front door.

As tempting as it was to take the long way to work again, they were already going to be about forty-five minutes into shit with Cuddy so he chose the less exciting but more efficient main roads.

When traffic started to slow down, House decided to take advantage of being on the bike and cut over to the shoulder to get around whatever was holding things up.

He swerved right and hit the throttle hard forcing Cameron to instinctively squeeze him tighter.

What he hadn't realized was that there was a stalled pickup truck on the side of the road just yards ahead of them. He quickly hit the brake and tried turning left to get back on the road, but it was too late. The loose stones under his tires stole his traction and the bike began to skid to the left.

He felt Cameron's grip force the breath out of his lungs while an anxious 'oh shit' went through his mind.

The next thing he knew he was lying half on his bike, and half on the road. He could hear the engine still running and could smell the mixture of hot brakes and burnt rubber in the air.

He tried getting up and looking for Cameron, but he couldn't do either. His left leg was pinned under the front wheel of his bike. He pushed himself up as best as he could with his arms, but it hurt like hell. She wasn't lying on the road with him and he strained his neck in both directions desperately trying to find her.

Then he spotted her.

Since the truck's tailgate was missing, she had been thrown and her impact had cracked the back window. Now her seemingly lifeless, slight frame was lying in the bed of the truck with her back to him.

"Cameron!" He forced out, but couldn't find the breath to yell as loudly as he wanted to. She didn't move.

"Oh God," he moaned while he lost the strength to hold himself up and started getting light-headed as the pain rushed over his body.

He looked down at his right leg still lying on top of his bike. It had apparently taken the brunt of the impact and was crushed and looked out of joint. He noticed a slice in his jeans around the area of his infarction and blood was pouring from it.

"Oh God," he cried quietly before losing consciousness.

* * *

House was roused by the feeling of someone lightly shaking his shoulder.

"Hey buddy, are you okay?"

"No."

"Damn, the blood is pouring from your leg!"

"Cameron, in the truck," House asked only half-conscious.

"The girl in the bed up there? Someone else is helping her."

"No!" House snapped and the blood rushed from his head making him close his eyes.

"If she is bleeding, stop it. But don't move her."

In that moment, everything in him needed to go up there and help her himself, but he couldn't.

The reality of that forced him to concentrate on his own injuries. He moved his hands toward his belt and started to unbuckle it. The stranger pulled the belt out of the loops and fastened it tight around his upper thigh.

House yelled with pain and hardly holding onto consciousness, finally let go of it.

The next things he heard were the sounds of EMTs rushing around him. One of them squatted down next to him asking him his name.

"Greg," he mumbled.

His heart was pounding out of his chest.

"Allison Cameron…in the truck," he forced out hardly audible while trying to lift himself up again to see her.

"Hey, take it easy. We're already taking care of her, don't worry," the EMT gently held him down and tried reassuring him.

"She's okay?"

"She's alive," he answered simply.

Soon after, he saw two men lifting Cameron out of the truck on a gurney and into the back of an ambulance. They had removed her helmet and he could see blood matted in her hair and on her face, and God, all over her clothes.

House looked up at the man attending to him, "Princeton-Plainsboro. We're doctors there."

He heard the man yell after the others, "Allison Cameron. Take her to PPTH."

He turned back to House, "anything else we should know?"

He had no strength left for a response. But in his mind all he could think of was Cameron and what he had done to her.


	3. Chapter 3

House felt a dull ache over his entire body. He wasn't quite sure where he was or even where he should be.

Slowly he started to recognize the sounds around him, like the quiet whir of the fans and the constant beeping of medical equipment. He could hear the muffled sound of voices and an occasional announcement calling for names that were familiar to him.

When the fog began to lift from his mind, pieces of his most recent memories started falling together, then he remembered Cameron. He tried moving but realized he was connected to monitors and an IV running into the top of his left hand. Then there was the uncomfortable feeling of a catheter line tugging down below. Lovely.

House saw Wilson step to the side of his bed.

"Where's Cameron...?" He croaked, hardly able to open his eyes, his mouth and lips dry and his voice weak and raspy.

"Hey buddy," His friend's voice was quiet and uncertain.

"Do you know what happened?" Wilson continued.

"Wrecked the bike...Where's Cameron?" he asked again, trying to recall the details.

"She's still in surgery," Wilson answered.

"What are they doing to her?" he asked trying to turn his head to look at him but the pain and stiffness in his neck was too much.

"I've been watching from the observation room," he assured him, "they're taking very good care of her."

"What are they doing to her," he repeated drawing out each word.

"She's got some internal injuries, Greg, but she's going to be alright."

House turned his head to face Wilson, cringing from the pain and Wilson's use of his first name. Never a good sign.

House's eyes locked with his, threatening him for a real answer.

"They're removing her spleen - broken ribs lacerated it," Wilson finally answered.

"What else?"

"It appears she has a broken leg."

"God, I swear, Wilson…if there's something you're not telling me," he pressed.

"The ribs punctured her lung, too. You're both lucky you were wearing helmets."

Wilson's hand moved to the back of his neck and he looked out the window.

"What aren't you telling me?" The rise in his voice only made him cough, sending a jolt of pain all through his body as he grabbed his stomach then noticing his right arm was in a cast.

"They took you into surgery, too."

House closed his eyes as he remembered and quietly said, "My leg..."

He tried reaching it, but the cast on his arm impeded his movement, so he reached across with his left arm, lifting himself up, causing a jolt of pain, especially on his right side. He lay back, wincing, as he settled his head back on the pillow.

Wilson simply answered, "It's gone."

House closed his eyes tighter and suddenly didn't want to talk anymore. He didn't want to know anymore. He didn't want any of this to be happening.

When he saw his leg on his bike he knew he'd need some reconstruction but he never imagined they'd remove it.

"Your artery was severed and your femur was completely shattered. The nerve damage was extensive. There was nothing they could do."

House's mind returned to the scene of the accident. He remembered smelling burnt flesh, his right leg draped over the exhaust pipe, but he felt no pain. At the time he contributed the lack of pain to shock, not thinking that the nerves could've been severed. Shit.

House silently willed Wilson away and within a couple minutes it worked.

As hard as he tried, he couldn't wrap his mind around the weight of what had just happened. His leg was gone. He'd made this decision for many patients before, but this time it affected his life, his leg. The leg he had fought so hard to keep following the infarction, no longer just barely useful, but gone. Forever.

House imagined himself in a wheelchair or on crutches with one side of his jeans pinned up where his leg used to be. He saw people looking at him in a way that they never had before. The cane had drawn enough attention to be uncomfortable at times but this was going to be a whole new reality, one that completely sucked.

There were so many things that were going to be different now, simple daily tasks that were mindless activities even with a bum leg, now seemed impossible. Standing in the shower, driving, getting around the apartment and the hospital. Then there were the things that weren't so mindless, like making love to Cameron. God, this had to stop. He had to do whatever he could to get this out of his mind. He could deal with it later, much later. Even never would work.

So it had happened. Karma had made a return visit. It gave him yet another sweet taste of happiness and then sadistically snatched it away from him. The real kick in the gut this time was it had drug Cameron down with him. She was now paying the price for _his _stupid mistake.

So far, he had managed to ignore the persistent pang in his subconscious that Cameron was better off without him. And for Cameron's sake, hell for his sake, he should have listened to it. Because now, not only did he have to deal with the lingering hint of paranoia that she wanted to fix him, now he'd need her help just doing everyday things. He'd always used the word cripple flippantly. There was nothing flippant about it now. He was a real cripple now...for life. No amount of Ketamine would help re-grow a lost limb.

He suddenly had the strongest urge for Vicodin than he'd had in months. He wanted to feel nothing, absolutely nothing.

* * *

The careful balance of Morphine and sedatives had House comfortably numb. He faded in and out for what seemed like days but he had no real gauge of the time that had passed. The fog in his mind allowed him to ignore any thoughts about what had happened to him or to Cameron. If it were up to him he'd stay this way forever.

But a familiar scent started to encourage him out of sleep then he felt her warm hand take his and when she spoke, a calm came over him. It was a feeling of security that he'd known all of his life and it felt the same now as it did when he was five years old.

"Hey, Mom," he said, trying to give her a smile.

"How long have you been here?" He tried speaking but only managed a whisper. His throat felt as if he had swallowed a box of razor blades. He swallowed thickly, willing the saliva back into his parched mouth.

"A while, Greg," she answered.

He lay there quietly feeling her thumb gently run across the top of his hand. He tried holding reality back from his thoughts, but he could feel it slowly over-powering him one detail at a time.

"I really screwed up, Mom."

"Everything is going to be okay," she said softly.

"It wasn't just my life I screwed up this time."

House coughed from the dryness in his throat and turned his face back towards the ceiling slowly opening and closing his eyes trying to clear the effects of the sedatives.

Blythe got up from her chair and held a cup of water to his lips. She used her other hand to support the back of his head while he took a drink.

"Thanks," he said lying his head back down and feeling the cool water soothe his throat.

She sat down and took hold of his hand again. The expression on her face lifted as she grinned and asked, "You mean that cute young thing down the hall that you neglected to tell your mother about?"

He turned his eyes slightly towards her and gave her a questioning look.

"You know James can't keep a secret," she laughed lightly.

House looked back towards the ceiling then closed his eyes. He knew what his next question was but asking it would mean hearing the answer. But the lightness in his mom's tone nudged him to ask it anyway.

"Is she okay?"

"She's going to be."

House turned and searched his mom's eyes wanting to know more.

"James used a lot of big words that I think he assumed I understood because I'm the mother of a brilliant doctor," she joked lightly, "but what I got out of it is that she's going to be just fine." Her tone turned reassuring.

He turned away closed his eyes again not wanting to hear any more. He wanted to just hold onto the assurance that she was going to be okay. That was enough for now.

"What day is it?"

"Friday."

"Where's dad?"

"He couldn't come," she said simply.

He immediately wished he hadn't asked as a pang of anger welled up in him. The last thing he needed or wanted right now was his father telling him how lucky he was to be alive, and then to list ten good reasons _not_ to ride a motorcycle. But at the same time there was something inside him that still wanted to know that his dad somehow gave a damn. But pushing those feelings down is something he'd spent a lifetime learning how to do. So he pushed them down, yet again.

"How did you get here?"

"I flew. James called me on Tuesday and booked my flight. He even picked me up at the airport. He's a sweet man."

"Any more questions?" She smiled and tilted her head to the side.

"Do you want another drink?" she lifted the cup of water as she asked the question.

He shook his head slightly then looked back towards the ceiling.

"How about you, Greg?"

He thought for a moment, "I don't know, Mom."

"I think your pain will finally be gone now," she said gingerly.

"Yeah," he mumbled as he stared beyond the room and into the future somewhere.

He was still trying to avoid any thoughts about his leg. Unfortunately, his overdeveloped brain tended to hang on to every detail, every event. Never letting go. Just for once he wanted to be able to put something out of his mind and know that it would never come back again. He felt overwhelmed with everything and hadn't had the time to think through anything yet. His mom was right. His pain was probably going to be gone now once everything healed, but at what cost? He knew he'd be facing that question soon enough.

Blythe brought him back to their conversation when she patted him playfully on the hand and said, "So, tell me about this cute young thing down the hall," then smiled at him.

"Cameron. She works for me," he turned to look at her not really expecting that to get any kind of a reaction, and it didn't.

"I think you met her a while back," he continued, "when you and dad came to visit."

He welcomed the idea of thinking about something else, anything else, even if it was Cameron. He wanted to lose himself in how good things had been over the past few months. He wanted to escape there and go back to Tuesday morning and change the whole course of things. He wanted to imagine he'd talked Cameron into staying in bed all day and to hell with Cuddy and the damn interview she'd set up.

"Yes, I think I remember her. She seemed like a nice young lady."

Holding onto this conversation for as long as he could, he looked at his mom and grinned, "Will you please stop using the word young?"

Blythe laughed, and quickly responded, "But she is!"

"You have always been so handsome, Greg. Finally a girl that's wise beyond her years, huh?" She smiled and lifted her eyebrows at him.

"I swear Mom, that's the last age comment I want to hear. I'm almost twice her age."

Damn, he hated it when he verbalized that.

He's not sure why he hadn't told his mom about her sooner, but then he wasn't sure what he'd have told her. It was hard enough for him to try and figure out their relationship without having to explain it to his mother.

"I don't know…about six months now I guess," he finally started.

"She puts up with me, and I'm not sure why."

"I know why," she smiled at him.

"Thanks, Mom, but I really am an ass."

"I'm sure she knew that the day she started working for you," she chuckled.

"Yeah, she tends to remind me of that on a regular basis."

"I haven't been able to figure out what the hell she's doing with me. Hardly a day goes by when it doesn't cross my mind that she'll finally get tired of me and someone better will come along. Now she's going to have a real cripple to look after and I've damn near killed her. She's got all kinds of excuses to leave now," he said looking away from her.

"I doubt any of that is true, Greg."

"I dunno, Mom," he said but he wanted to believe her.

"It's different than it was with Stacy."

Blythe slowly shook her head, "I never liked her."

House let out a slight chuckle and continued, "Stacy and I were too much alike. We were always at each other's throats, trying to one up each other. Always having to get in the last word. We clashed all the time, especially after my leg..." he hesitated, "Cameron has never tried to change me. She seems content to sit back and let me be me, even if that means being a total ass. I still can't understand why she'd..." House's voice fell away mid-sentence.

Before he realized it, she was doing that mysterious mom thing that she had done to him since he was a kid. He always spilled his guts to her and he'd uncover things he didn't even know himself. She always had this way of taking his mind off of what really hurt.

"She sounds like a smart," she hesitated for a second and grinned, "…woman."

House laughed a little then coughed out, "Thanks, Mom."

"She and I are so different, but she interests me, and she's so easy to be with and for some reason, I really seem to think she finds my annoying and childish behavior entertaining."

"If she's good to you, you get over yourself and hang on to her." She patted his hand again.

Blythe looked at the clock on the wall then up at the IV bags hanging beside his bed and asked, "Are they feeding you with one of those things? You've got to be hungry."

"This one on the left here is basically sugar water with some vitamins in it," he answered simply.

"Well, do you think you're allowed to have a Reuben? It's dinner time."

"Hell, I don't care if I'm allowed to or not. Wanna get me one?" He felt like a kid asking for candy at the grocery store. He knew his stomach was in no condition for eating but he just couldn't turn down the idea of trying.

"Sure, anything else?"

"Scotch?" He raised one eyebrow at her.

Blythe tilted her head to the side and just looked at him, waiting for a serious answer.

"A Mountain Dew then," he conceded mocking his disappointment.

"You got it." She leaned down and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead.

As she straightened back up she brushed the scruff on his cheek with the back of her fingers and asked, "She puts up with this too, huh?"

"She says it's sexy," he grinned.

"Then you _better_ hang on to her," she advised jokingly as she walked out the door leaving him in a lightened mood.

He lay his head back and closed his eyes willing Cameron to walk through the sliding glass doors of his room. He envisioned her complete with hands on her hips and pissy expression on her face. He always liked the light green shirt she had with the scoop neck and that delicate gold necklace. He pictured her silky brown hair partly covering just one shoulder and her bangs lying lazily across her forehead. Her green eyes trying to convey some elevated level of anger but never quite able to get there. He liked it that she could never quite get there, with him at least.

House hadn't noticed the man lurking in the hall pacing back and forth, arms crossed, continually glancing through the window at him.

He waited until he was certain Blythe was out of sight, then entered House's room and shut the door with enough force to get his attention.

There stood a tall man with a slender but solid build, faded loose-fitting jeans, a worn out purple Northwestern University long-sleeved shirt, and thick brown hair that fell down over his ears and across his forehead. House pegged him in his mid-20s and he had a suspicious feeling this had to do with Cameron. Especially since the clenching body language was unmistakable.

House didn't acknowledge him when he came in the room. He wanted to deal with this, with her, on his own time and in his own way but now it looked like that wasn't going to be possible. He wasn't in the mood to be dealing with anyone right now, especially this kid who he could only assume was Cameron's little brother.

"You Dr House?"

"Maybe, who's asking?"

"Sam Dunbar."

His eyes snapped to the man still standing just inside the door. Sam Dunbar. He put another Cameron puzzle piece into place. He had suspected some time ago that she'd be one to keep her married name but had successfully ignored the possibility. All of the sudden calling her that seemed a little odd.

House had been trying to figure Cameron out since the day he interviewed her for the fellowship. She wasn't an open book like the girls that would sit at a bar next to you and tell you their life story in excruciating detail until you wanted to self-destruct. Instead, she was interesting and mysterious in a way that was completely unsuspicious – just perplexing. It was a puzzle that while he grabbed onto new pieces of it occasionally, he never really quite wanted to solve it all.

"Doesn't ring a bell." He looked towards the window hoping this wasn't happening.

Sam let out a sarcastic laugh, "You really are an ass, aren't you?"

"Yep," he clipped out, willing him away, but this seemed to be something that only worked on Wilson.

"Listen. I'm going to assume you're smarter than you look and have already figured out who I am," Sam took a step towards his bed.

"Allison Cameron? Down the hall? Beat up from a motorcycle accident? Does that ring any bells?"

House didn't have the energy for this. The last thing he needed was this kid beating him up over the very things he was already going ten rounds on himself about. And while Cameron's brother is the only family member she ever spoke well of, actually hardly spoke of at all, he dared to call a truce.

"I know exactly who you are," he said letting the sarcasm fall from his voice and finally meeting Sam's eyes with his own.

House was analyzing Sam with every movement and every word. He assumed he was smart enough to figure out they must have been in the accident together. What he didn't know is if Cameron had told him anything about them. And right now he didn't need this over-protective hoss of a little brother being pissed at him for doing his sister.

Sam's tone softened as he glanced in the direction of House's leg, noticing the blanket lying flat on the bed below his right thigh. "Damn, I'm sorry."

A weak 'yeah' communicated that he didn't want to talk about it.

"How is she?" House asked.

"She's doing okay. They took her off of the respirator yesterday. Dr Cuddy backed off on her sedatives this morning and she's started waking up this evening."

Sam continued, "I've been coming down this way the last couple days wanting to talk to you."

House just watched Sam, still sizing him up, trying to figure out just what he did and didn't know.

"Alli talks about you all the time. I just needed to see what the big deal was," he grinned.

"Surprised?" House questioned.

"No, pretty much what I expected," he laughed lightly shoving his hands into his pockets.

With that, there was an awkward silence in the room while both of them turned to stare out the window. The sun was getting low and the sky was slowly being taken over by darker hues of blue and orange. The trees were turning a faint shade of green as the leaves were finally starting to bud. It looked like Spring and it reminded House of their last ride on his bike the day before the accident.

"Do you want to go see her?" Sam asked bringing House's thoughts back to the room.

He just nodded thoughtfully and tossed the air in his mouth from cheek to cheek. He was never going to be ready to see what he'd done to her, but right now he just wanted to be near her.


	4. Chapter 4

House wanted to see Cameron, maybe it was for his own piece of mind or because he didn't trust Wilson's story that she really was going to be okay. Sam was there to help aid his transfer to the chair. He had a feeling he was going to regret this, both physically and emotionally.

Sam moved the wheelchair that was in the corner of House's room over to the side of the bed.

"Should I get a nurse?" Sam questioned.

"No," he clipped out. There wasn't a nurse on staff that he wanted seeing what was inevitably about to happen.

"Okay," Sam complied, "Just tell me what to do."

House hit the button to raise the head of the bed. Slowly he was brought into a sitting position, his body protesting the movement. Taking a few deep breaths, he took the blanket in his left hand and pulled it off his lower body. His heart skipped a beat and his stomach twisted in a knot when he looked down for the first time, seeing the results of his stupidity.

The left leg looked fine, just a few scrapes and bruises, but overall intact.

He looked at his right leg - or what remained. All he could see was the very bottom of a white compression bandage peeking out from under his hospital gown, wrapped tightly around the remaining stump. Trying to hold back his emotions, he swallowed hard as the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He was an amputee whose life will consist of recovery, rehabilitation and trying to return to a normal life, whatever the hell that was.

"You okay?" Sam asked, with a look of concern.

He snapped out of his thoughts, nodding his head, "Yeah."

House disconnected himself from all the tubes and wires he was attached to. He knew this would be at least a little easier once this damn cast was off his arm.

Spotting the catheter taped to his left leg, he weighed his options. He was in no shape to be hopping into the bathroom, especially when he still needed help just standing up. No way did he want a complete stranger holding him while he peed. The catheter would have to stay for now.

"First, you've got to grab that little bag of pee hanging on the side of the bed there and hang it on that handy dandy hook," pointing to the side of the wheelchair. "Don't want to leave that behind or a certain part of my anatomy would protest loudly when we reached the end of the line."

Sam wrinkled his nose as he glanced at the urine filled pouch.

"Oh relax, it's not toxic waste."

House just rolled his eyes as he watched Sam pick it up with his thumb and index finger and hold the bag as if it was a bomb ready to blow at any moment. He hung it on the chair, moving back to aid House in the transfer.

"My arm is pretty useless so you're going to have to grab me under my shoulder and steady me while I move to the chair," House said slowly looking at the floor, calculating the easiest and least painful way to pull this off. He gently put his left hand under his remaining right thigh. He didn't want it painfully dragging across the bed.

"I'm going to support my leg, go ahead and pick me up under my arms," House suggested. "On three, lift and get me up on my left leg. We'll go from there."

Sam positioned himself behind House and grabbed him under his shoulders.

"One... Two... Three."

Sam lifted and slid House sideways off the edge of the bed. House gasped as he was pulled to a standing position, body trembling with the movement. He released his leg and let it dangle beneath him. Gravity rushed blood to the damaged area, causing it to throb, feeling twice its size.

So this was his new existence – physical dependency. He felt helpless and vulnerable. He was at the mercy of a complete stranger. Sam's arm around his back was the only thing keeping him from falling to the floor of his hospital room and not being able to get himself up.

Greg House and dependency, well human dependency, had never gone together, and never will. But dependency of another sort, preferably the white bitter sort, sounded pretty appealing right now.

House grimaced with pain as he tried balancing himself on his left leg that was already weak from four days of lying in a hospital bed while Sam held onto his right side. Then he groaned when the bandage on what was left of his right leg bumped against Sam.

"Damn, I'm sorry," Sam apologized quickly pulling his leg back and away from him.

House stopped short at yelling at the kid and pleading with him to please not drop him but he knew how pathetic that would sound. So he just grumped out a chosen four-letter word instead.

Sam was strong and able to set House down as gently as possible.

"Man, I'm sorry about that Dr House," Sam breathed out while he straightened himself up.

"Drop the doctor bullshit and just call me House, okay?" He forced out, trying to deflect the pity he was hearing in Sam's voice while he let out the breath he'd been holding.

"Sure," he answered and gave him an uncomfortable smile.

House settled into the chair and tried to relax, "Well, that was fun."

Blythe returned with his dinner and smiled when she saw him in the wheelchair. He looked a bit haggard, but she was happy to see him making the effort to move around. When she saw the missing leg, her heart sank for her son, but she continued smiling. "Glad to see you up and about," she stated.

"Are you going to go see her?" She continued.

"Yeah," he answered quietly glancing down at his leg. "Hey, can you hand me that?" pointing to the blanket folded on the end of his bed.

"Sure, dear." Knowing what he was thinking, Blythe picked up the blanket and placed it in his lap, spreading it over his legs, hiding his injury from onlookers and a certain immunologist.

"Thanks, Mom," House said as he looked thoughtfully at her.

He wanted to say more but not in front of Sam. He wanted to tell her how glad he was that she was here and that he loved her but he knew she understood that. She always understood.

"Hi, I'm Sam Dunbar. Alli's brother," Sam spoke up as he took a step towards Blythe and offered to shake her hand.

She looked confused until House added, "Cameron's brother."

"I see," she smiled at both of them and shook Sam's hand, "Blythe House, Greg's mom. Nice to meet you."

"Let's go before I change my mind."

Sam pushed him into Cameron's darkened room and House instructed him to leave him towards the end of her bed. The only light was a florescent glow reflecting off of the white ceiling above her bed and the amber and green glow of the various machines that were monitoring her.

House sat there apprehensive about her waking up. He knew she would be in a certain amount of pain and it was his fault. If he couldn't erase the events of the last few days, he wished he could at least fast-forward through the next few months and just be done with all of this.

His desire to be here was just as strong as his need to get up and walk out of the room but the glaring absence of the leg in front of him was a stark reminder that he didn't have that option. He tried telling himself _this is exactly why you live your life detached from the people around you._ _This is why you don't get involved. This is why you don't care. _But he wasn't so convinced anymoreCameron had managed to get to him and he couldn't make himself believe he was better off without her.

Sam pulled a chair up to the other side of her bed and they sat waiting. House looked down at his leg and then to Sam and said quietly, "Not a word about…" his voice trailed off as he looked back at Cameron.

"Sure," Sam said nodding his head showing he understood.

It felt like hours sitting and waiting, but slowly she started to show some slight signs of movement. Sam took a hold of her hand.

"Hey Alli, it's Sam," he said quietly.

She opened her eyes looking into the darkness above her bed.

"How do you feel?" he asked, not knowing what else to say.

"Are you in any pain?" Sam asked calmly.

She tried to speak and nothing came out, but she managed to let her brother know she wasn't feeling any significant level of pain.

So many things were converging in on House at once. His emotions were wreaking havoc with the tough outer shell he had worked so hard to create over the years, but in the last six months, since he and Cameron had grown closer, that shell had begun to crumble.

Sam saw Cameron's eyes start to focus as she became more aware of her surroundings.

"Al, you were in a motorcycle accident a few days ago. You're beat up a little but you're going to be fine," talking like those words were as much for his benefit as they were for hers.

"Do you remember anything?"

Her response was slight but communicated 'no'.

"It's going to hurt if you try to talk, so don't."

"You and House were on your way to work and hit a stalled car on the side of the road," he paused, "He's okay. You're both going to be okay."

He glanced over at House and continued, "He's sitting on the other side of your bed."

She tried moving her head towards House but her muscles were too stiff and she grimaced with the pain.

Her face was bruised but just on one side. She had a few scrapes and cuts, but nothing had been stitched so the scarring wouldn't be too noticeable. Her right leg was in a brace and her mid-section was wrapped tightly with bandages. At least Wilson had told him the truth.

He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and take her home with him and make everything be okay again. Of course, that's nothing he could have been physically able to do a week ago, not to mention now. His inadequacy slapped him hard across the face.

At the very least he wanted to put his arms around her, take away her pain, and make her understand how sorry he was for what he did to her. But he didn't feel like he deserved to do any of those things. He's the one that caused this. He's the reason she was lying there, bruised and broken. He somehow felt he'd lost the privilege to touch her now or ever again.

He wished the last six months of his life had never happened. He wished he'd never gotten strung out on Vicodin and that he'd never asked her to help him with detox. Why is it that everything he does is shrouded in pain and everyone he touches ends up getting hurt?

He knew he had a choice to make. He could let her go or he could continue to infect her life. Both options sucked.

He sat and watched her drift in and out of sleep. Each time becoming a little more conscious until finally she was able to turn to him.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," he answered back.

"A wreck huh?" her voice was becoming only slightly stronger but it was still dry and raspy.

"Yeah."

"Diagnostically boring," she said with a weak smile crossing her lips.

House's eyes just shifted away from hers as he slowly nodded his head in agreement.

"And you're okay?"

"I'm fine," was his short answer as he looked back at her.

"Sure?" she asked, her eyes questioning him.

"Sure," he answered looking at the tiles on the floor then out the glass wall that separated him from the hallway.

Cameron became quiet and when House finally forced himself to look at her again, she had fallen back to sleep.

Not looking away from her he said, "Take me back to my room."

Sam looked at him with half confusion and half disappointment. Then he let go of Cameron's hand and did what he asked.

* * *

When Cameron woke up, her entire body ached and it felt like they had immobilized her leg. Her eye and the side of her face felt funny but she wasn't sure why, then she felt the pain in her side and avoided trying to move any more.

She opened her eyes and saw Sam slouched down asleep in the chair next to her. He was tall and looked uncomfortable with his head leaned to one side and his mouth slightly open. He had that Dunbar quality of being able to sleep anywhere so she figured he probably had been there all night.

She lay there in the quiet trying to piece together what must have happened. She remembered leaving her apartment on House's bike but everything after that seemed to be gone. She vaguely remembered House being in her room but she couldn't grasp any of the details.

She saw Sam start to move, pulling his wrist close to his face and squinting, trying to figure out what time it was. He turned and looked out the window seeing last night's fog giving in to the heat of the morning sun.

"Hey Sammy," she whispered.

He turned back towards Cameron with a surprised but still drowsy look on his face.

"Hey Alli, how ya feelin'?" he answered.

"Beat up," she croaked.

"Damn, I'm sure," he laughed lightly.

"Do you need anything?" He leaned forward and put his hand on her arm, "Should I call Dr Cuddy?"

"No, it's ok."

She tried taking a deep breath but the stabbing pain in her side kept her from getting it and made her cough instead.

She pulled away from Sam's hand and clinched her stomach, making it worse. The pain from the breath paled in comparison to what shot through her then. She closed her eyes tight, waiting for it to pass and when it did she turned to Sam and whispered, "Do I have broken ribs?"

"Yeah," he started, "and an incision from the surgery. They removed your spleen"

"Damn that hurts," she slowly breathed out closing her eyes trying to think of anything else. After the lingering pain had subsided, she turned back to Sam.

"Hey," she tried swallowing then continued, "House was in here last night?"

"Yeah," he answered flatly. Sam's disinterest caught her attention and she feared House had made his usual, very unpleasant first impression on him.

"Okay, Sam, what did he do to you?" She gave him a weak and hesitant grin.

"To me?" he let out a quiet sarcastic laugh, "Nothing."

"You mean the accident?" she questioned, "Please don't give him a hard time…" but Sam interrupted her.

"He hardly said two words to you last night before he made me take him back to his room," he said letting some anger through in his voice.

Cameron wondered what might have happened, and then she reminded herself this was Greg House, a real ace when it came to dealing with emotional situations.

"Then when I took him back he wouldn't say anything to me."

"He's just not very good at this kind of thing," she tried to explain.

"You sure about this guy, Al?" he looked at the floor while he rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his hands together.

"Yes," she looked over at her little brother, "I know how he can be but I also know how he feels," she grinned, "once you get through that abrasive exterior."

Her voice turned serious again, trying to make him understand, "He makes me happy, Sam. I love him."

"And does he love you?" he asked lifting his eyes to meet hers.

House had never said those words, but she hadn't really expected it yet. He had the most surprising and sincere ways of showing her how he felt, and in those moments, she felt a connection to him like she'd never felt with anyone before. For now, it was enough for her.

"I don't know, Sam, but he's good to me. House doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do," she answered, returning from her thoughts.

"Well, it was obvious what he did and didn't want to do last night so don't make excuses for him, Al."

Cameron knew House was either making his life or everyone else's life hell over this - probably both.

"What happened to him in the accident?"

"I'm not sure. A broken arm and he's scraped up a bit," choosing his words.

"A broken arm?" she questioned, "Which one?"

Sam thought for a second, "His right one I think."

His right one in particular made Cameron a little more concerned. "Is he in a lot of pain?"

"Doesn't seem to be," Sam answered looking back at the floor. Cameron knew when her little brother was lying and that wasn't like him.

"Do you think you can get him to come back down here?"

Sam looked back up at her with a hesitant expression of dread on his face, "You sure?"

Cameron clearly tried working her bother's emotions with a pout she'd perfected over the years, "Please?"

"God, Cameron…you so don't play fair," he grouched out as he locked his hands behind his head and looked up.

"I know," she laughed barely loud enough to hear and even then she winced from a shot of pain going through her side.

"I'll go get him, but I sure hope you know what you're doing," he huffed as he stood up from his chair and walked towards the door.

"Thanks Sammy," she said as she grinned at him while he walked across her room.

* * *

House woke up to the smell of a cold Reuben wafting over his shoulder while the nurse was checking on his bandages and the levels of his IV bags.

She got dangerously close to his sandwich and while making a judgmental tisking kind of noise, she reached for it assuming he was still asleep.

"I'll tell everyone you're sleeping with Morrison," he warned. Never acknowledging her, never opening his eyes.

He knew that if he did right now he'd receive a look that morphed between shocked and pissed. He'd seen that look many times before. All the nurses had their own version of it. And Nurse Debbie's was particularly cute but he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of thinking he'd cheated by peeking.

"You know you're not supposed to have that," she snipped as she continued checking his wounds.

"Don't care."

Suddenly he felt her rip the tape off the dressing covering his shoulder, taking some hair and what felt like three layers of skin.

"Ow!" He yelled, reaching up with his left hand to soothe the aggravated area.

House glared menacingly at her, but she continued her work, unfazed by his scowl.

"How soon until we get him off of our floor?" He heard her voice fade off as she walked into the hall and questioned the other nurses at the station.

After she left the room was silent, except for the annoying beeping of the monitors. Thoughts started flooding into his mind, overwhelming him. His life sucked right now. He had been trying so hard to avoid thinking about the future, but now he was alone with only his thoughts.

He closed his eyes, trying to think of anything else besides his screwed up, miserable life, but kept returning to the accident and Cameron.

"Are you awake?"

He opened his eyes to see his mom standing by the bed, reaching for his plate.

"You didn't eat your sandwich."

"Kinda lost my appetite, sorry."

"It's okay, Greg. I'm sure it's not good anymore. Let me get rid of it."

She walked it over and dumped it in the trashcan.

"The nurse wasn't happy with me that I got this for you," she informed him as she pulled a chair up to the side of his bed.

"Which nurse?" House questioned furrowing his eyebrows.

House knew all the nurses and he knew they were all too familiar with him. She pointed out to the nurse's station and indicated the one with the light-green scrubs. It was Erin, the bitchy one who always cursed under her breath anytime she'd walk away from having a conversation with him. Well, that was about three-quarters of the nurses here but Erin always cursed in German. He made a mental note to make her life a special form of hell the next time he got the chance.

"Did you go see her?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said leaning his head back on his pillow staring off through the window.

"How is she?"

"Don't know," he mumbled.

"What do you mean you don't know?" she asked, rubbing her hand lightly on his forearm.

"I think she'd just be better off without me screwing up her life," he said closing his eyes and trying to convince himself it would be better for both of them but he knew he was just trying to avoid dealing with any of this.

"Are _you_ better off without her?" she said trying to reason things out for him.

He turned his head and looked at her, "Without this? Yeah," he said convincingly.

"I said without _her_, Greg," she rubbed his arm again.

"No," he resigned and looked back towards the window.

They sat there in silence while House's thoughts were so disjointed he didn't know what to think or what to feel.

Blythe took his hand and lifted it towards her lips and kissed it then waited for him to turn and look at her.

"Don't push this one away." Her words stung but he knew she was right. He knew this is where things had gone wrong before.

"I just don't want to hurt her."

"How have you hurt her?" She asked.

House raised both of his eyebrows at her and asked with a hit of sarcasm, "I thought you said you saw her?"

"You mean this?" she looked around indicating the accident.

"Yeah," he answered knowing that's not all that he was referring to.

"Besides this, how else have you hurt her?"

"I dunno, Mom," he answered beginning to feel cornered.

She waited for a better answer.

Finally, he looked back out the window and confessed, "Every day I know how capable I am of it."

"Capable of it and doing it are two very different things, Greg."

He hated it when she did this to him.

"What right do you have to decide what's best for her? I think you need to let her make her own choice."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid she's going to do," he admitted quietly.

"Why do you say that?" She asked gingerly.

House quickly turned his head and looked at his mom and with anger in his voice said, "Look at me, Mom!"

He glanced down at where his leg used to be and finished, "I'm twenty years older than her, a grumpy old bastard, and now I don't only have a damaged leg, I've got no leg at all. What the hell is she doing with me?"

Tears started welling in his mom's eyes hearing so much pain coming out of him.

"I'm sorry, Mom…" His voice trailed off as he turned away from her again.

After a few minutes of quiet, Blythe finally said, "If she's worth keeping, she'll stay. Don't be so afraid of getting hurt that you let go of something this good."

With that, she left the conversation alone and just quietly sat holding his hand for a while as he closed his eyes and tried thinking about anything else.

"Would you like me to turn the TV on?" She offered looking for the remote.

"Sure," he answered but not really caring.

House lay quiet, listening to the sound of his mom flipping through the channels when he heard his door slide open.

"Good morning, Blythe."

House opened his eyes to see Wilson walking into his room.

"Good morning, James," she answered cheerfully and smiled at him.

"How's our little pain in the ass today?" he chuckled.

Wilson was carrying a small plastic container that looked like it might be hiding something tasty from the nurses.

"He's feeling fine, thank you very much," acknowledging he was being talked about like he wasn't in the room.

"What did you bring me?" he snipped eyeing what was in Wilson's hand.

"What makes you think it's for you?" He grinned.

"Because you're a hopeless do-gooder. What is it?" He asked impatiently.

"Guess," Wilson teased.

"Oh hell, Wilson…hand it over," House put his hand out rolling his eyes at the immaturity of his little games.

Wilson sat the container on the table and wheeled it over and in front of him pulling a fork and a napkin that he'd stolen from the cafeteria out of pocket of his lab coat.

Blythe reached over and took the lid off for him and peeked inside, "Mmmm, smells pretty good James. Did you make these?"

"Yeah," he laughed out.

Blythe looked at him and asked, "And you're not married because…" she drew out searching for an answer.

Wilson just dropped his arms to his side, lifted his heavy eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders in a way that looked just a little too innocent.

"Because he's a horny son of a bitch who can't keep his..," House grumped out before taking a long sniff of the fresh macadamia nut pancakes lying before him.

"House!" Wilson interrupted, hiding his eyes with his hand.

"What? It's true. You can't control little Jimmy. I think he needs a leash."

Wilson put his hand on the back of his neck, clearly getting uncomfortable with his objectionable behavior being discussed in front of House's mother.

"Geez…" He moaned.

House continued talking, "I'll have my mom check the pet store for you. Maybe a nice shih-tzu leash would do the trick.

One of those with the fancy studs on..."

Blythe just smiled at her son's antics, happy to see some of his sense of humor returning, even if just for a few minutes.

"I'm outta here." Wilson replied before House could finish his sentence. His arms raised in frustration as he turned toward the door. "Talk to you later, Blythe. Oh, and don't try to steal any of his pancakes, I heard he bites."

"Thanks for the warning."

She leaned over and gave Greg a peck on the forehead, "I'm going to go downstairs and grab some breakfast for myself, since my own son won't share with his own mother."

"Sorry mom, but nobody touches my macadamia nut pancakes." he replied, encircling the plate with his left arm, guarding them from any attacks.

"See you in a bit then. You need anything before I go?" she asked.

"Nope, I'm set." as he picked up the fork a little awkwardly with his left hand, digging into the stack of pancakes awaiting him.

Wilson and Blythe hadn't been gone more than ten minutes before Sam hesitantly walked into his room looked up at the TV then back at him asking, "soaps?" Making an obvious effort to be casual.

"Yeah, they've got this great network now that plays re-runs," he returned his attention to the breakfast sitting on the table in front of him which was easier than looking at Sam, "I can't always stop saving lives between three and four o'clock, ya know."

Sam lifted one side of his mouth in a half-grin that looked very unconvincing, "Yeah, I guess not. That looks pretty good for hospital food. Where's the applesauce and beef broth?"

Sam looked over at the tray full of empty containers sitting on the chair next to the bed.

"In the trash," he took a bite, "best friend's a great cook," he said around a mouthful of pancakes looking back up at the TV.

"Alli is awake. She's been asking about you," he said, holding his breath waiting for House's reaction.

House finally looked at Sam and asked, "How is she?" feeling a little uncomfortable about what happened last night.

"It's pretty painful if she tries to move too much but she's talking quite a bit. They sat her up a little this morning."

House looked back at his food and shuffled his final bite around. His mom's words came back to him, encouraging him to try this one more time when he realized her being awake would make it impossible to hide his leg from her. He knew he wasn't ready for that.

He passed on the last bite of pancake and left his fork in the container. He knew what he should do, but his insecurities had him paralyzed. Damn it, this was Stacy, the infarction, and all that shit all over again.

Sam shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and with a hesitant voice said, "She wants me to bring you back down to see her."

House reached for the remote and started flipping the channels.

"No thanks," was all he said but it mistakenly hinted of sarcasm.

House could feel the anger just seething from Sam. He hoped he'd just turn and leave without saying a word but he figured that would just be too damn fortunate for him.

"You are some piece of work, ya know that?" Sam started. House refused to look at him.

Sam took a step towards House's bed and continued, "You act like some kind of cocky son of a bitch on your bike, with my sister on the back of it," he took one hand from his pocket and pointed in the general direction of her room and continued, "Now she's lying down there in so much pain she can hardly breathe and all she wants is to see you!" His voice was getting louder and shakier with every angry word.

"And you can't be bothered?" he asked rhetorically. Or at least House assumed it was rhetorical so he didn't answer – not that he wanted to say anything anyway.

Sam shoved his hand back in his pocket then opened his mouth to speak again but swallowed his words down and took a breath before continuing.

"You can't even look at me," he paused, shaking his head, still staring at House, "I have no idea what she sees in you."

He turned and walked out the door leaving House alone thinking 'me either.'

* * *

"Hello Dr Cameron, I'm Mike," the orderly announced as he walked into her room pushing a wheelchair. Cameron had seen Mike around the hospital but had never known his name. He was short and solid and would have looked to be in his late twenties if he wasn't almost bald. Regardless of the rest of his features, that alone made him look older than he probably was. He had on blue scrubs, white tennis shoes, and his hospital ID was hanging around his neck but tucked into his shirt.

"Hi," she answered politely. She was sitting up in bed trying to choke down at least one of the two pieces of dry toast they'd given her for breakfast.

"Ready for your first therapy session?" he asked cheerfully.

"Ready as I'll ever be I guess. They sure don't let you get any rest around here do they?" she laughed lightly but regretted it as soon as she did.

"Well, what day was the accident," he rolled his eyes up trying to think, "Tuesday? And here it is Sunday morning. We've got to get you moving again," he smiled. Mike had a cute smile.

"You can get back to that later," he said as he nodded in the direction of her breakfast.

"Or not," Cameron interrupted and smiled.

Mike laughed in an unexpectedly high-pitched way that made Cameron try to hide her grin.

He rolled the table away from her bed and moved the wheelchair into its place. With his skill and the strength she had in her left side, they managed to get her into the chair with as little pain as possible, which was relative considering broken ribs hurt like hell.

"I had the pleasure of taking Dr House down to PT a little while ago," he joked.

"Lucky you," she joked back.

With that, they set off down the hall towards the physical therapy room. Cameron hadn't seen House for two days and even then she vaguely remembered him being there. Sam had come back furious from trying to get him to come to see her again so she had decided to not push it, at least until Sam went home. She knew House and she knew her little brother. Under the right circumstances she'd hoped they would get along fine but these weren't it.

She spent most of the last two days thinking about him and missing him. She could only assume all the things he must be dealing with – or not dealing with in House's case. She wished he would just talk to her but she knew better than to expect that. That aspect of House hadn't changed in the three years she'd known him. When he wanted to, he could put up an emotional wall that was impenetrable. So far their relationship had gone on well enough that he evidentially hadn't felt the need to put one up between them but that seemed to have changed now.

One damn incident and Cameron feared their relationship was propelled back to square one, or worse.

Mike pushed Cameron through the doors of the PT room and leaned over to mumble into her ear, "Lucky me. Maybe if I drop you off quick enough I won't have to be the one to take him back," he laughed quietly then stood up straight again.

Mike brought her back from her thoughts and she wasn't quite sure what he was referring to but then she saw him.

Cameron's heart sunk and she could hardly breathe. House was lying on a bench with a therapist standing at his side, exercising his left leg. But his right leg wasn't there. All she saw was his cut off sweatpants hiding what looked like only half of his thigh. Cameron's thoughts went completely numb.

"Oh, God..." she muttered.

His broken right arm was resting across his stomach, his left hand gripping the side of the table. His eyes were closed and facing the ceiling, cringing a little from the therapist flexing his leg a little further than it wanted to go. Cameron put her hand out signaling Mike to stop pushing her any further and he complied.

She just sat there looking at him, wondering what the hell she should do next. He hadn't seen her but she didn't want to leave. She wanted to do quite the opposite but she knew whatever she did next could have some serious consequences on their relationship.

It made sense now why he wasn't coming down to see her. He's been sitting in his room dealing with this alone.

Cameron was angry and hurt, but she felt for him all at the same time. Unable to imagine what he was going through over all this just had a whole new dimension.

She waited for the therapist to finish the reps on his left leg. He backed away from House and noticed Cameron watching.

"Hey Dr Cameron, you're early," he said, stepping towards her.

With that, House raised his head and looked in her direction then dropped it back down on his pillow looking straight up at the ceiling.

"Hey, I'm really sorry to do this," she said quietly, "but would you two mind giving us a couple minutes?" she asked, not taking her eyes off of House.

Cameron wheeled herself over to where House was lying but he didn't move.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked quietly.

"I take it Sam didn't rat me out," he answered.

"No."

The air was dead between them.

"House," she said quietly, wanting him to turn and at least look at her. Cameron's heart was beating out of her chest.

"Why won't you look at me?" she asked again…quietly. She didn't want to talk because she didn't know what to say. All she really wanted to do was lie down beside him and just hold him.

"Because I'm counting the ceiling tiles and don't want to lose my place," he quipped.

"House, I'm serious. Why won't you look at me?" she repeated.

"Because I know what I'll see, and I'm not really in the mood for it." Hesitating, he slowly turned toward Cameron.

"Yep, that's it. Like that," he finished. He held her eyes and analyzed them.

"Like what? What do you see?" she questioned. She knew he had a keen sense for reading her this way and she only hoped she wasn't showing any false signs of pity or rejection. She had a feeling that's exactly what he was looking for.

She didn't really know what she was feeling but she knew neither of those things were true, she just hoped he could see that.

She could see the struggle going on inside him.

He turned away from her again and she just watched him, wondering what she could do. But nothing came to her. She felt helpless to do anything…to say anything. So she just sat there with him, in the quiet while the seconds felt more like minutes.

"It's going to be okay," she finally said, hoping it was the right thing.

"How do you know that?" he finally replied, eyes closed.

"I just do."

"That's not rational," he said looking at her again.

"Are we rational?" she grinned but he didn't smile back. His face was full of doubt and uncertainty.

"No, but I'm not sure we're okay either," he argued back with very little enthusiasm.

"Right now I think that's completely up to you," she responded and he turned his head away from her again.


	5. Chapter 5

Cameron and House sat in the quiet of the empty PT room. All the conversations he'd played over in his head telling Cameron what had happened were useless now, not that any of them sat well with him anyway. How do you break news like that? How do you prepare yourself for their unrehearsed reaction? How can you have all the answers to all the questions that would come when you didn't have answers even for yourself?

But now it had happened, just like that. In the quiet of a Sunday morning – the truth just silently spilled out all over them. She'd seen it with her own two eyes and she'd only had one question. Why hadn't he told her? One simple question and even then he had no answer for her.

When House turned to look at her again, her eyes were closed. She was sitting quietly in her wheelchair and he would have given anything to read her thoughts.

The therapist walked back into the room hesitantly looking for signs that it was still too early and would disturb the privacy Cameron had asked for. When nothing was being said between them, he slowly walked up to House and said, "Ready to stretch the other leg?"

He reached for his right leg and House grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

"No. We're done here," he said in a weak but insistent voice as he glanced over at Cameron who was looking at him again.

"Can we just schedule my session for later?" she asked quietly as she lifted one corner of her mouth to force a smile at the therapist and placed her hands on the wheels of her chair to clumsily try turning herself around.

"No, Cameron," House interrupted then cringed inside, immediately regretting the harshness of his tone.

"My turn with the trainer from hell here is over," he restated.

House closed his eyes and hoped for the best as he steadied himself with his left arm and sat himself up on the bench, remaining leg swinging over the side and putting his foot down on the floor.

When he opened his eyes, the therapist was pushing Cameron towards the other side of the room. Mike moved his chair close to him and asked, "Ready?"

House didn't answer, he simply watched as he pushed her away. That hadn't gone any better than he'd expected it to. Cameron, in the time they'd been together, or since he'd known her for that matter, had never given him any reason to believe she would be anything but accepting of his new…situation.

So what was so damned hard about seeing her?

After performing the one-legged transfer dance with Mike back at his room, House was in bed feeling totally deflated. He tried telling himself that eventually Cameron had to find out and nothing could have prepared him for it. He was feeling a little sore from all of the activity as he tried finding a more comfortable position. He hated her seeing him like this.

House heard the door to his room slide open while he looked out the window.

"They take you to PT today?" he heard Wilson ask.

"Yep," House clipped out, not turning to acknowledge him.

"I'm assuming it didn't go so well," Wilson stated cautiously.

"Yep," House repeated.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Nope," House finally turned to face him.

Wilson was carrying the battered and dirty backpack that Cameron had been wearing on the day of the wreck and he saw it catch House's attention.

Wilson said hesitantly, "You…might not want the bag back but I thought you might like some of the things that were inside." If that bag had any of Cameron's blood on it he was going to be all kinds of pissed at Wilson for bringing it in here.

"Anyway…" Wilson finally continued, "I'll just leave it here on the chair."

"I don't want it in here," he clipped out, "just leave me my stuff and take the rest with you."

"I think some of this stuff is Cameron's too, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yep," quickly followed by asking, "Did my iPod survive?"

"Yeah, I think so," Wilson said eagerly, digging through the bag, finally locating it and handing it to House.

"Thanks," he offered.

"Your PT must have gone so well that it's sucked the smart-ass right out of you," Wilson gently prodded.

"Cameron showed up," he explained simply.

"Ah," Wilson answered, nodding his head and finally understanding the reason for the somber mood.

Wilson stood quiet beside House's bed long enough for it to become awkward between them.

"For what it's worth, I really do think it will be okay," he paused, "if you'll let it be."

He didn't want to hear one more person say everything was going to be okay. House finally turned back to him and with his expression alone let him know he'd had enough talking. So Wilson glanced down at the floor then back up before quietly saying, "Okay, I'm sorry." He pulled things out of the bag one by one, some things belonging to him and some things belonging to Cameron. He placed them in the chair beside his bed then turned and left the room, taking the bag with him.

House unwound the wires to his iPod and stuck the earphones in his ears before turning it on. He rested his head back on his pillow, scanning through his song list trying to find something he could get lost in.

Before the music started, House's door slid open yet again. He was truly beginning to hate that sound.

"Good morning, Dr House. How are we doing today?"

House raised an eyebrow, glancing out of the corner of his eye and said, "We? Funny, looks like you still have two good legs, and who the hell are you?" in a voice that was louder than normal since the music had finally started and his iPod was turned up ridiculously loud. The kid only smirked at him.

He was young looking with short brown hair spiked on top of his head, sticking out in every direction. His face clean cut, cheeks rounded with a small chin. He was wearing a light blue dress shirt and a simple tie crisscrossed with different shades of blue and a pocket protector in his white lab coat. He reminded House of the kid from Malcolm in the middle, Franki someone, not that the name was important right now. Point being, this kid was way too young to be telling House anything he didn't already know.

"I'm Dr Fulton, your orthopedic surgeon." He said, trying to stay professional.

House removed the speaker from one ear, "Who?" he asked.

"Dr Fulton, your ortho surgeon," he repeated politely right before House returned the speaker to his ear.

This was his doctor? Kid should still be in high school.

"Are you here to tell me how wonderful my life is and how I'll be able to be an Olympic hurdles champion?" House looked back at his iPod, still speaking annoyingly loud and fiddling with the controls.

"Well, that's up to you," the doctor slightly raised the level of his voice and continued, "From what I heard from the therapist this morning you cut your session short, unwilling to participate. So, how do you expect on making a full recovery when you're not going to give it any effort? Losing a leg is not a death sentence."

Seeing the kid's lips moving but not hearing what was coming out of them, House rolled his eyes at him and over-exaggerated removing the speaker once again trying to get the point across that he didn't want to be disturbed. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head in a smart-ass kind of way communicating he needed the doctor to repeat himself yet again.

"You cut your session short this morning," he repeated, beginning to show signs of getting a little pissed off.

"Yep," he answered, putting the speaker back in his ear.

Dr Fulton reached for the iPod and House managed to dodge his attempt but in the process he pulled the speaker back out of his year. It fell across House's chest and Dr Fulton saw his opportunity and grabbed the wires and pulled on them, disconnecting them from the device.

House scowled and stared at him with a look that resembled a dog trying to solidify his order in the pack.

Dr Fulton stood up a little straighter, standing his ground and explained, "Listen Dr House. I know I'm new around here and Dr Cuddy tried warning me about you but I insisted on forming my own opinion. I know all of this sucks but unless you have a specialty in orthopedics you might want to do yourself a favor and listen to what I have to say," he paused, looking at the iPod in his hand. Then he continued, "I won't take anymore of your precious time than necessary," he ended on a sarcastic note.

Not bad, House thought, for a rookie. 

"I've got to do a job here, so let's take a look," he said straightening his tie, easing the tone in his voice and walking over to the side of House's bed.

House watched his every move but kept his opinions to himself. Something that he wasn't well practiced at doing but he had to admit this kid deserved a break.

"I've got to remove the bandages and see how everything's healing," he continued, trying to be professional once again.

Dr Fulton pulled back the blankets, exposing House's legs, then pulled up the cut off pant leg, exposing the tightly wrapped limb.

He began by gently cutting the top layer then continued unwinding the white bandages. House just kept his eyes on the kid not wanting to look until he finally turned towards the window again, anything but facing the reality that was his leg.

When the dressings were completely removed, Dr Fulton started examining the remaining limb. "Looks good. Everything's healing well. The edema is normal. See what we did here was..." He looked up and noticed House's disinterest.

"You're going to have to face this sooner or later."

"Later is fine," House responded not looking away from the window.

Seeing House's turmoil in dealing with this, Dr Fulton tried to be sympathetic toward him. "Listen, I know this may all seem overwhelming right now but you will heal and you will be able to live a functional, normal life."

The specialist reached behind him and grabbed some gauze and a new bandage. He placed the gauze over the amputation site and began to wind the bandage around the injury. House winced with the contact, it was still very tender and sore. Dr Fulton finished wrapping the bandage around his thigh. It felt tight but not uncomfortable. "How's that feel?" he asked when he completed the job.

"Fine." House deadpanned, never once looking at the doctor's work.

"You'll notice quite a bit of shrinkage in the next few weeks as you heal. Depending on how fast that happens will determine when we can cast you for your first prosthesis. Also, you'll need to be proficient at transferring from your bed to a chair and chair to standing before you can think about walking. You were supposed to work on that this morning, but for some reason you decided it wasn't important."

Dr Fulton paused for a moment allowing House to respond but when he didn't, he continued.

"I've read your history. You've had to deal with chronic pain and limited function of that leg for..." he flipped through House's file, " about oh... five years or so," he continued, "You needed a cane to walk, correct?"

House nodded slightly, wishing he could have his earphones back and tune this kid out now.

"Think of this as having a second chance." Okay, now he knew he wanted to tune this kid out.

House looked up and stared at Dr Fulton, "A second chance at what? Getting to learn to walk again?

Been there, done that, don't wanna do it again." He thought back to the days following the infarction; the surgery, the pain, the rehab, learning how to walk again but eventually coming to the reality he'd never walk normally again.

"How much do you really know about the latest technology in prosthetics?"

Honestly, House didn't know too much. All he knew for sure was he never intended to lose his leg, voluntarily or involuntarily, so he avoided the subject completely.

"Did you know they now have legs that can make fifty adjustments per second while you're walking?

Computerized and everything, almost like your own leg. They allow you to climb stairs, go up and down inclines, run."

With that last word, House returned his gaze to the doctor at the side of his bed. Run. That word struck a chord with House. He remembered after the Ketamine treatment, meeting up with Cameron and taking those long jogs on that same familiar route, feet pounding beneath him, Cameron by his side. Then the pain returned and all that remained were the memories of those few months.

"Yes, even run," he repeated as he noticed House's reaction.

"But you've got to be willing to do your share of rehab. It sucks, but it's got to be done. The sooner we get you moving, the sooner that could happen," Fulton continued, "it all depends on how fast you heal and how hard you're willing to work."

Since the wreck, House hadn't considered the opportunities he now had with the use of high-tech prosthetics. Maybe there was some slight chance at returning to some kind of normalcy. He remembered the days of jogging in the park, doing steps instead of having to find an elevator, or shooting hoops on a Saturday afternoon with Wilson.

Dr Fulton continued, "Have you been experiencing any unusual pain or sensations?"

"You mean besides the feeling of my foot itching and the pins and needles? No."

House knew about phantom limb sensation, but it was a different thing to experience it. Out of natural instinct he'd reach down to scratch it, finding nothing there. The severed nerves were still trying to communicate back to his confused brain.

"You may start feeling some phantom pain, especially with your history," he warned, "If this happens, we'll treat it accordingly."

"Great." So, his leg was gone, but he may still end up with some excruciating pain.

* * *

Monday morning felt a lot like a Sunday morning inside the walls of the hospital. But things looked very different out House's window as he watched the busyness of life going on like nothing at all had happened. He'd hoped Wilson would bring him breakfast again but no such luck. He was stuck with a completely tasteless bowl of oatmeal, a banana and the strongest cup of coffee he'd ever tasted. The banana wasn't too bad but the oatmeal and the coffee were going straight back to the kitchen where they'd come from.

When House arrived in the PT room, it was busy. Most of the exercise equipment was being used by people with varying degrees of physical ailments, one person pedaling slowly on a stationary bike, another doing arm exercises. One lady was sitting at a table with a therapist doing an exercise with her middle finger, which House found slightly amusing.

He scanned the rest of the room and to his relief found no evidence of Cameron.

"Well, well. If it isn't my favorite patient," a voice resounded in his ear, causing him to turn his head in its direction. He looked up and rolled his eyes.

"Perfect..." he mumbled, recognizing her immediately. He's surprised his shoulder didn't ache just at the sound of her voice.

"Nice to see you too, Dr House," she replied, taking hold of the handles on the wheelchair. "I'll take it from here, thanks," as she pushed him toward one of the open therapy tables.

"So, I hear you refused to continue with your PT yesterday. Not interested in walking?" She made it sound so nonchalant.

"Listen, um..."

"Lorraine," she said, leaning over and pointing to her hospital ID badge.

"Lorraine…save the speech. I'm here now, aren't I?"

They stopped by one of the open tables. She locked the wheelchair brakes, and walked around in front of him.

"Alright, let's get you on the table."

House looked at her suspiciously, raising one eyebrow. Did she think she was going to move him by herself?

Before he knew what was happening, she had grabbed him under his arms and gave him instructions. "When I say 'go' I want you to lift yourself up and I'll get you on the table."

"Whoa, whoa! Don't you think you need..." House chimed in, a look of surprise and fear on his face.

She set her feet. "Okay, ready, set, go."

In no time, he was out of the chair and up on his left foot, totally in shock by the strength in this five foot nothing woman who was probably half his weight. He figured he better help before she decided to body slam him onto the table so he pivoted with his foot and leaned back toward the table to sit down.

He had to remember not to mess with her.

"Lay down."

"Getting me on my back already. What, no foreplay?"

She gave him that smug look he remembered so well from months back, then she started stretching his limbs; left leg, left arm, right arm gently since he still had sutures in his shoulder and the cast on his arm.

"Okay, we're gonna work that right leg," she said in a professional manner, gently picking up the damaged limb with her right hand as she placed her left hand on his right hip. She slowly started flexing the limb toward his left leg. He visibly tensed at the contact, even though it was wrapped heavily with a compression bandage and well protected. The thought of it still made him uncomfortable.

"Try to relax." Lorraine added when she saw his reaction.

House felt the tendons and muscles being stretched as she worked his leg in each direction. He concentrated on breathing through his nose and exhaling out his mouth. Not that he'd ever admit it but the stretching actually felt good. The lack of movement in his hip and thigh had made him stiff and sore.

As Lorraine pushed the leg further, House let out a strangled moan as he scrunched up his face. He suddenly remembered why he hated physical therapy so much.

"Do you have to do that?" he breathed out through his clenched jaw.

"Yes, unless you want to get hip contractures and not be able to wear a prosthesis, which would make it a little difficult to walk," she stated, without stopping her work.

* * *

Mike pushed Cameron through the doors of the PT room and left her in the waiting area that basically consisted of a desk and a few chairs lined up against the wall. She felt a little rude not giving Mike her full attention as he talked about wanting to go down to Florida for the Mets spring training but she couldn't help but wonder if House would be there when she arrived again. She'd played what happened yesterday over in her mind so many times but came to the conclusion there really wasn't anything she could have, or would have, done or said differently.

Mike had left her in a position where she could see into the large room while he checked her in with the receptionist. Every piece of equipment seemed occupied along with several therapy tables and then she spotted him.

He was on his left side on one of the benches, facing the back wall while a black woman with glasses wearing purple scrubs was flexing his right leg back. She could see his back muscles tense with the movement, right arm resting on his side, left arm wrapped tightly around the pillow under his head.

She just sat there, watching him. She might have felt a little rude if this was a stranger off the street, but it wasn't. This was House. The man who, for more nights than not, slept beside her. This hadn't only affected him - it had affected her too. The thought of that sent a pang of guilt that felt like selfishness through Cameron. But it was true. As much as House thought he lived in a vacuum, he didn't. What happened to him also affected her but she wasn't sure he would ever agree with that.

House had people in his life that cared deeply about him. People that had dared to see past his sarcastic and abrasive front and take a chance that there might be more under the surface. The fact that House seemed to go through life unaware of this was almost humorous. It's almost like he couldn't see inside himself. Like he couldn't think that he had anything to offer anyone on that level so he'd just dismissed the possibility of it at all. Or he was just so damn afraid of something.

In the early days of working for House, Cameron had been suspicious of his feelings for her. What she hadn't counted on was that, regardless of what House felt, it only came to the surface if he allowed it to. But, it's only humanly possible, even for House, to shove so much down before things start to involuntarily float to the top. She'd eventually figured this was why he finally let his feelings be known during his period of detox. Cameron had hoped she'd managed to show him that expressing his feelings on occasion wouldn't make the walls come crashing in around him.

These are things Cameron just hadn't thought about in a while, and they were interrupted when the therapist helped House sit up on the table. She was pretty confident he couldn't see her since she was mostly hidden behind the front desk.

He eventually had become comfortable with her touching his scar and she only hoped he would become comfortable with this, too. Suddenly, a flood of thoughts came over her when she realized she'd been so consumed with House losing his leg and what he was going through that she hadn't considered that taking the leg also meant taking his pain.

She had been curious and done some research on the latest prosthetic technology but she'd eventually dismissed it knowing House would never entertain a conversation like that, especially since he'd chosen death or chronic pain over losing his leg. Cameron wasn't conscious of the smile that crept across her face as she felt hopeful for the first time since all this had happened.

"Dr Cameron," Mike pulled her from her thoughts again, "they can take you now," he said as he took a hold of her wheelchair.

"Hey, Mike?" she started, not looking away from House and his therapy session, "would it really mess the schedule up if I just waited out here for a while?"

Mike followed Cameron's line of sight and thought for a second, "Sure," he said hesitantly, "I mean no, I think they can fit you in anytime today."

She finally looked up at him, "I'd like to just sit here and watch if that's okay."

Mike gave her a genuine and crooked smile like he understood completely, "One of the perks of being a doctor here. I'll just let Amanda know and you can tell her when you're ready, okay?"

Cameron smiled warmly at Mike and thanked him before she turned her attention back to House.

* * *

House was on his third attempt at transferring from a short folding chair to the therapy table on his own, each of his previous attempts ending with an unceremonious plop back into the chair.

Lorraine was hovering nearby as he struggled once again to stand on his own. His balance was totally out of whack. He hadn't realized how much his leg weighed until it was gone. His right arm was out of commission and his left leg hadn't been exercised in almost a week, all making the task that much more difficult.

"You're at a disadvantage since you only have function on your left side right now."

No shit, Sherlock , he thought as he positioned his left leg under him once again, his face set in grim determination.

"Try to keep your center of gravity low. It'll make it easier to find your balance," she encouraged.

House, still sitting on the chair, bent over from the waist, trying to center himself on his left leg as best he could before trying again. He slowly started to lift himself from the chair, holding onto the seat with his left hand as he pushed up, all of his weight placed on his left foot. His leg was shaking with the effort as he slowly released his left hand from the chair, straightening his upper body. He was determined to keep from landing on his ass for a third time.

Biting his lip, he hunched over to lower his center of gravity, then straightened out, pivoted on the ball of his left foot and sat on the edge of the table in one quick motion, left hand reaching back to guide him against the edge. Panting slightly, House raised his eyes to see Lorraine standing over him with a pleased smile on her face.

"Now, was that so hard?"

House stared back at her in disbelief as he worked on controlling his breathing. It had only taken him three times to move himself off of a chair and onto a table. He'd forgotten how frustrating this could be and how helpless it made him feel.

"We're done for today. Let's get you back to your room," she pushed the wheelchair next to him. "But let's see you do it one more time."

Going from the taller table to the wheelchair was much easier and within a few seconds he was in the chair, ready to go. In fact, he couldn't get out of there soon enough.

* * *

Cameron was exhausted from her therapy session. They had worked her upper body hard today, focusing on her arms preparing her to be getting herself around on crutches soon. Her whole body ached, especially her midsection and the ribs that were still healing.

She'd had House on her mind all day especially after watching him work so hard during his session. She knew how difficult that had to be for him. He wasn't used to letting people do things for him. Not that he didn't order people around on a regular basis but it was always understood that he could do any of those things on his own, and probably better than anyone else, but he just chose not to.

She thought about how much she missed him. It had been a day now since that awkward meeting in the PT room and she debated the idea of going down to his room. She didn't even care if they talked about 'it'. She just wanted to see him. Tomorrow would be a week since the accident and this was the longest she'd been away from him in the better part of six months.

Then a familiar older woman walked hesitantly into her room as if asking for permission.

"Hi, Dr Cameron?" she asked quietly.

Cameron quickly recognized her. She'd met House's parents some time ago but it was only for a brief time. Cameron immediately got a warm feeling from her.

"Hi," Cameron smiled, "Mrs House, right?"

"Blythe, please," she insisted.

Cameron grinned a little shyly and gave in to her request, "Okay, Blythe. Come on in."

"I won't stay long, Greg was pretty tired when he got back from his therapy and I assume you probably are too," Blythe said as she walked further into her room. Her arms were full of the things Cameron was carrying in House's backpack the day of the accident.

"It's okay," Cameron offered. She was pleased to have the company since Sam had gone home for a few days.

"I understand these things belong to you," she said hesitantly, unsure of what else to say at the moment.

"It looks like it," Cameron replied, "You can just set them down anywhere. Thanks for bringing them."

Blythe sat her things on the table next to her bed. "Greg thought you might be particularly interested in this," she said as she lifted her iPod towards Cameron, the wires neatly wrapped around it. Hearing House's mom call him Greg made her smile, it had such a ring of familiarity to it.

She laughed, "He did, huh?" Cameron really only used it when she ran and since House's pain had returned she hadn't done much running, especially since they'd been together. She knew how much he had enjoyed it for the brief time when the Ketamine had worked. Now leaving him alone in the evening while she went out for a run just didn't seem right. She would spend a little time on the treadmill at the gym on occasion but that was it. But House had this idea that everyone should be as into music as he was.

"I don't know what it is about music that young people have to have it in their ears all the time these days," Blythe joked.

"House loves his music," Cameron added.

"Yes he does," Blythe added thoughtfully, "Have you heard him on the piano?"

"Yeah," Cameron smiled.

"He's got a gift for that thing," Blythe said and shook her head, "Not that he got it from his parents."

"I was surprised when I first heard him play, or even found out he played at all. Then to hear how beautifully he could play," Cameron paused, "It just surprised me. It didn't seem to be very…House-like." She gave a knowing grin to Blythe.

"My son has always been full of surprises," Blythe laughed.

"Yes," Cameron laughed, tipping her head sideways, raising her eyebrows and looking away from her.

That seemed somewhat of an understatement.

"Well, I'm sure you're tired," Blythe offered as a way of saying goodbye, "It was nice to meet you again."

"It was nice to meet you too…Blythe," Cameron smiled.

She turned to walk out of her room when Cameron said, "Can I ask why House didn't bring those things down himself?" She felt a little funny asking knowing that the answer probably wasn't a simple one but she wanted to know, and if there was anything Blythe could tell her about what he was going through or thinking, she wanted to hear it.

"I don't know," Blythe turned back to her and started, "and I don't think he really knows either." An understanding smile smoothed across her face.

Cameron didn't know what to say to that, so she just nodded. That wasn't the worst thing she could have heard from her but at the same time, it didn't really put her mind at ease either.

"I do know the way he talks about you isn't anything like I've heard before," she paused, "not from him." Blythe playfully shook her finger at Cameron and added, "You've managed to get to him and that's not an easy thing to do." Blythe gave her another warm smile.

Cameron smiled back, "He's kind of managed to get to me too."

"Just promise me you'll be patient with him. He hasn't had the best experiences at this."

"He won't get rid of me very easily – not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing for him though," Cameron laughed.

"From what I hear, that's a very good thing," Blythe smiled and walked out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

"We can rebuild him. Make him better…stronger…faster…"

Wilson tried impersonating the voice from the old 70s TV show as he strode into the physical therapy room, hands tucked deep into the pockets of his lab coat.

House turned to him while the technician made more adjustments on his new prosthetic leg. He was sitting on a bench wearing a faded blue T-shirt and a pair of grey sweats with the right leg conveniently cut off just far enough to cover his healing leg.

"Hey Ben," Wilson acknowledged the tech, "how's our little patient today?" He finished in a playfully condescending tone like he'd come to pick up his non-existent toddler from preschool.

"Do you have _any_ idea how annoying that is?" House interrupted, not taking his attention off what Ben was doing until finally rolling his eyes over at Wilson.

"Yes," Wilson replied, glancing at Ben who made an obvious point to keep his opinions to himself and keep his mind on his work and out of their business. He didn't care to get caught in their crossfire yet again.

"Now you just need a red polyester running suit and I'm going to start calling you Steve," Wilson mocked, raising his eyebrows as he stressed the name Steve. Wilson pushed the wheelchair over by House and sat down in it while he waited for the tech to finish what he was doing.

"I think one Steve is enough in my place. He might get confused." House answered. "By the way, you have been taking care of him for me, right?

"Steve McQueen is fine but I think he misses you if that's even possible."

House glanced over at Wilson, "No, he just misses all the treats I feed him. The way to a rat's heart is through his stomach."

"I could say the same thing for certain friends of mine..." eyeing House suspiciously.

Ignoring Wilson's comment, House continued to focus on Ben's work. He was more than ready to regain some of his freedom.

Depending on someone to get him around was wearing thin on House's patience. But with his arm still in a cast from his shoulder to his wrist, he managed to get himself around a bit in his wheelchair but couldn't get anywhere fast and crutches were completely out of the question. So it was up to the orderlies in the rehab wing to get him where he needed to go except for the times when he could talk Wilson into it.

He knew the hard work was still ahead of him and he wasn't looking forward to it at all. Learning to balance and get himself up and down without his right leg had been frustrating enough. But now he had to look forward to learning how to walk all over again on the prosthetic.

"One more measurement without the bandage Dr House, and we're done," Ben explained.

Ben started to remove the elastic bandage when House shooed him away and insisted on doing it himself. It wasn't easy, especially with that damn cast on his arm, but he'd managed to figure out a way to put it on and take it off himself.

He had to admit it was looking a little better each time he'd seen it which was every three days now. What had been red and stitched and swollen was now just barely pink and noticeably smaller than it had been in the days right after the wreck, and while it was still sensitive to a certain amount of pressure, most times he felt no pain coming from it.

His physical healing had progressed well. He couldn't say the same for the other areas of his life.

It had taken him a couple weeks to be able to even look at it. Even now he doubted he'd ever get used to the sight of it. It just looked so ugly and…incomplete. And while he was able to at least stomach it now, any feelings remotely resembling wholeness hadn't returned. Not that they completely had after the infarction, but definitely not now. He wished the other areas of his life could heal with time by just leaving them alone, but leaving it alone only seemed to be pulling things further apart.

Cameron would find her way into his room now and again but they never talked about much. The wall that was between them was unavoidable and admittedly his doing.

Ben took his final measurements and pushed back his chair, "All done," he stated, making notes on his clipboard.

"We'll make the changes today and we'll get you back down here and go for a test drive tomorrow morning," he smiled at House then glanced over at Wilson.

Wilson stood up while House wrapped the new bandage onto his leg. When he was done he grabbed the balancing bar attached to the wall beside him and moved himself into the wheelchair.

"We eatin' in or out today?" Wilson asked as he wheeled him into the hall.

"Definitely out. The menu in the rehab wing said tuna noodle casserole…again"

"Then I don't suppose you have any money tucked away in your sweats there do ya?"

House turned in his chair far enough to look at Wilson, "Oh Wilson, no. I'm so sorry…can you spot me this time?" he pleaded with zero sincerity.

"Oh no, it's okay. It's so unlike you," Wilson mocked back. "You're going to owe me so big when this is over," he added seriously.

"I'll take you for a ride on my bike, how's that?"

"No, thanks," Wilson laughed out as they went into the elevator.

His bike is something he'd only really started thinking about when trying to decide the type of prosthetic to get. Of course it had been totaled in the wreck but riding his bike is something he loved and didn't want to give up because of one stupid mistake. It was something he knew he didn't have to decide on now. There would be plenty of time for that later once he was back on his feet again.

Before pushing the button for the elevator, Wilson suggested, "Should we stop by and pick up Cameron?

House suddenly wasn't very hungry. He knew it was childish to be avoiding her. Avoiding her in a way that anyone else wouldn't have noticed but in a way that he knew she noticed. There was a distance between them that he wasn't doing anything to close. She had tried a number of times but he hadn't reciprocated.

"Sure," he answered, trying to hide his reluctance mostly because he simply wasn't in the mood for a lecture.

When they got to her room, Wilson politely knocked while House just pushed the door open with his foot. Cameron was sitting in the chair by her bed reading. She hesitated for a second as if whatever was happening on the pages was too good to be interrupted. Finally, she glanced up and waved them in.

The rehab rooms at the hospital weren't half bad. At least they weren't as sterile and cold feeling as the hospital rooms. They had carpeting and nice deep colors on the walls with furniture and incandescent light instead of that harsh florescent lighting. All the rooms were private and had a big window facing the courtyard.

"Give me just a minute," she mumbled, her eyes glued to the pages. House tried seeing the title from across the room wondering what could be so enthralling.

Finally she folded the corner of the page down, closed the book and placed it on the table. House's eyes followed the book but he couldn't focus this far away, but he wasn't in the mood to ask her what it was.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Tuna," House said flatly.

Cameron turned up her nose and grinned at Wilson, "Yeah…saw that."

"Thought we'd invite you to lunch, I'm driving and House is paying," he said trying to hide his sarcasm.

Cameron turned to House with a surprised look that only lasted a second before she knew that was total crap.

She rummaged through her purse and grabbed a twenty-dollar bill, "You drive and I'll pay and House can just," she paused.

House looked over at her, not quite sure what she was going to say.

"House can provide the delightful conversation," she laughed lightly but managed to slip him a loaded glance that went unnoticed by Wilson.

Nice.

Pissy Cameron used to be fun. Sometimes he'd get her going just because he was bored, but there wasn't anything entertaining about it now.

Cameron stuffed the money into the pocket of her sweats and pushed herself up and off of her chair and balance-hopped on her leg while she reached for the crutches that were leaning against the table.

She shuffled her way over towards them and Wilson said, "I was serious about driving. Hop on. Your brace alone has to weigh as much as you do, you aren't going to hurt him."

House wished Wilson would shut up…now. He shifted his eyes up at Cameron and she looked at him long enough to know it was an idea he wasn't all too thrilled about. So she looked back at Wilson and said politely, "I need the exercise," and she went out the door ahead of them.

House didn't say a word but Cameron and Wilson caught up on things while they slowly made their way down to the cafeteria. House tried not paying attention. He tried not being there, period.

Cameron suggested they sit out in the courtyard. Spring was finally here and she was missing it by sitting in her room all day. So with much to-do they made it through the doors, and she picked a table in the sun. She pulled her twenty out and handed it to Wilson telling him she'd like a grilled chicken salad and a water. House reached into his pocket and over-exaggeratedly pulled it out empty and ordered a cheeseburger, fries and a Coke.

Cameron hopped around and carefully sat down in one of the chairs and leaned her crutches against the side of the table where no one would be sitting.

Wilson pulled the chair away from the table beside her but before he could push House into the empty spot he'd already done it himself.

"Be right back."

Both of them watched Wilson retreat into the cafeteria before either of them chanced a start at an actual conversation, anything that consisted of more than surface level comments or uncomfortable glances.

"Hey," Cameron finally offered.

"Hey," he volleyed right back to her.

"So when do they fit you with your prosthetic?" she forced out.

"Did it this morning," he said finally glancing over at her and of course she was already looking at him. It was clear she was better at this than he was and he was out of his league. But even she was showing definite signs of being uncomfortable sitting here with him. Things felt so different between them.

"So how long until you start walking on it?"

"Tomorrow, I guess."

Cameron just nodded and looked down at her hands folded in front of her on the table.

He hated this. How is it that without any effort at all things had become so damn awkward? Then he realized how rhetorical that was. He just wanted them back to where they were a month ago but he had no idea how to get them there.

"You doin' okay?" he finally dared to say but looked away to the grassy area of the courtyard.

Cameron looked at him, trying to hide her surprise at his concern. He glanced back over to her and added, "I mean your knee and all."

She looked back down at her hands then vaguely off into the direction of the cafeteria doors.

"It's doing okay. Fulton says I can probably start taking the brace off later this week," she looked back at him, "I expect you have a couple more weeks before you get your cast off huh?"

"Yeah," he said quietly.

A few more uncomfortable moments passed between them and House silently begged Wilson to show up with their food, not that he felt like eating now.

"Listen," she said quietly, finally looking straight at him, waiting for him to meet her eyes.

He felt the conversation take a turn. He knew what direction it was headed and he didn't want to talk about it, but he finally looked at her.

"I know Wilson's coming back soon and this isn't the place but I want you to know how much I miss you."

House's breath caught in his chest as he looked away but could feel her eyes locked on his. He missed her too, more than anything.

"What in the hell is going on with you?" she finally asked, her voice low but angry and controlled.

"You're right, this isn't the place," he said flatly as he looked at her then away again.

If it were at all in House's power right now he'd wheel himself out of there and back to his room. Cameron was perfectly able to get up and go but of course she didn't. She just sat there staring at him, daring him to look back at her but he couldn't.

"I can't do this again," she finally cut the air between them and reached for her crutches just as Wilson came walking out the doors of the cafeteria with so much food on his tray something was bound to fall off with his next slow and steady step.

She let her grip on her crutches fall away as she sighed and settled back in her chair.

House had no appetite left at all and Cameron did more pushing around of her greens and grilled chicken than she did eating any of it. Wilson and Cameron did most of the talking while he glanced in House's direction on occasion, obviously seeing something was not right between them. But Wilson had been there before and shouldn't be surprised by what was going on, House wasn't. They had managed to keep whatever was going on between them…between _them_ until now. Now he knew Wilson would be making his 'you're such an idiot' speech before the end of the day. House had it practically memorized and he wondered why Wilson even bothered anymore.

When the conversation finally wore down and their food was amply picked over, Wilson gathered everything up on a tray and walked it to the trashcan across the patio.

Cameron, emotionally drained from trying to act like nothing was wrong for the last thirty minutes, just looked at her hands clasped in front of her, elbows resting on the arms of her chair and said, "I just miss you."

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to touch the soft and perfect skin on her cheeks and connect with her without using any scathing remarks that he would just end up regretting.

She hadn't done anything to deserve the gaping distance that was between them. He could see the pain that he was putting her through, first physically and now emotionally and he didn't feel he had the capability inside of him to fix any of it, even if he did try.

As Wilson returned back to the table, Cameron lifted herself to stand on her left leg and reached for her crutches.

"You wanna ride back?" House offered quietly then looked up at her. _God, is that all you can offer her?_

"Jimmy the orderly here, insists," he said sarcastically, trying to deflect a seriously uncomfortable feeling.

Cameron looked at him a little surprised then smiled lightly at him. It was warm and genuine but he could still see the sadness in her eyes.

"Nnaa, its okay but thanks," she said then turned towards the doors.

Her smile didn't hide the reality that he was in danger of losing the best thing in his life and he was already running in very short supply of anything that was remotely good in his life.

* * *

When they returned to the rehab wing, they came upon House's room first. Wilson pushed the wheelchair through the open door and let him go. He knew House could manage the rest of the way on his own. Cameron waited in the hallway until Wilson came out.

He warned her quietly, "You know he's done this before," he shoved his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, looking down at the floor, then he lifted his eyes up to hers, "Don't let him do it to you, too." Cameron gave him a weak and concerned smile as he turned to head back down the hallway. She wasn't sure what it would take to get House to let her back in, but she needed to talk to him now so she let herself into his room.

"Can I come in?" she asked hesitantly.

"Sure…and why bother asking? No one else does," he said as he slowly wheeled himself to the window on the far side of his room.

She stayed close to the door, not sure how this was going to go but they were going to break for good soon if something didn't happen. She hadn't held on to this for three years to let it go so easily.

"Will you talk to me?" she asked quietly.

"What do you want me to say?" he responded flatly.

"I don't know…" she let her voice fall off. She didn't know. She just wanted to start somewhere.

"Then I don't know either," he added.

Cameron closed her eyes and asked, "Can you at least tell me if this is about me or is it about your leg?" She leaned her weight forward on her crutches and her breath was trapped in her chest waiting for his response.

"Are they different?" he asked.

Damn it House, of course they are. She could feel herself getting angry. She wanted to break through whatever was shutting him off from her. She knew it probably started with his leg and just spilled right over onto her but she didn't want to be…she didn't want them to be…a casualty of one stupid bike accident. She thought they had something more substantial than that, in fact, she was sure of it.

Returning from her thoughts she simply stated, "You don't have to do this all alone."

House just stared out the window, the afternoon sun casting his shadow on the floor of his room.

Cameron was at a loss for where to go next. Emotionally she didn't know how much she had left in her and she was afraid if she said too much her frustration would just turn to anger and break what little seemed to be left between them.

Instead, she took a chance and shuffled herself over and stood behind him. She balanced herself on her left leg and leaned her crutches up against the side of his bed. She placed her hands on his shoulders and rubbed them gently before sliding her hands down and folding her arms across his chest.

She kissed him lightly on the side of his neck then placed her cheek against his face and kissed him again there softly.

Chills went down her back at the roughness of his beard remembering how it had felt for the first time all over again.

She just stood there, holding him for as long as her leg would allow. Neither of them said a word and House was seemingly unresponsive until she lifted away from him far enough to see he had closed his eyes and some of the anxiety seemed to have melted away. That alone felt like progress to her and she put her cheek back next to his and held him a little tighter.

Knowing that her leg wasn't going to last much longer, she straightened herself up and reached for her crutches again. Before tucking them under her arms and letting herself out she leaned down and whispered in his ear, "I'm not Stacy," then left him alone.

* * *

House got lost in her touch and the warmth of the sun reaching across his body. He wanted to just forget about everything and pick up where they'd left off on that Tuesday morning like nothing ever happened.

Then with three little words she propelled him back into his shitty reality and the truth of it was he was on the verge of repeating one of the most painful events in his life.

Her statement was arrogant and full of presumption but he couldn't deny its truth. For the first time he realized just how much Cameron understood him. She had looked right through him, seen everything he was afraid of, and laid it all out in front of him so simply.

Her words stung and they hurt, their simplicity even embarrassed him. They told him how incapable he was of seeing things for what they really were…and were not.

House spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in front of his window watching the sun make its way across his room until he was sitting in the dark with only the lamps in the courtyard reflecting off of his window.

He struggled to slowly wheel himself out of his room and down the hall. He opened the door to Cameron's room, let himself in and moved to the side of her bed. It was dark and he could only make out her still form lying under the covers. He could see she was on her back and he remembered how she always breathed so quietly in that position.

He just sat there by her side struggling to do what he knew he needed to do. Why was this so damn hard? He knew why. He felt incapable of giving her anything she needed, and he found himself in a familiar place. He knew he could just leave and let her go or finally reach out to her.

She had done everything right. She always did. He was always going to feel mismatched with her, and not just physically. He had just seen too much shit in his life and hers had seemingly been untouched. But it's not like she didn't know him. Although they'd never dug too deep, what he had shared with her was honest, and she still hadn't shown any signs of backing away.

He closed his eyes and sat there a little while longer, trying to make himself believe he deserved anything this good.

"I'm sorry," he finally said in a low and quiet tone, not knowing if she was awake. Part of him wanted her to be so he wouldn't have to say those words again but part of him was also afraid she'd heard him the first time.

After a few long moments, he could see Cameron roll over to face him, "I know," was all she said. His eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness by now he could see her smiling lightly at him.

House took a hold of the side of her bed and pulled himself up then sat down next to her as she shifted away making room for him. Cameron wrapped her arm around his waist while he turned and pulled his leg up and lay down beside her. What was left of his right leg brushed up against her while he awkwardly tried to get comfortable and he cringed at the thought of her touching it, even if on accident.

But she went on as if nothing about him had changed, sitting up and reaching for the extra blanket on the end of the bed. She pulled it up and over them then before lying down she kissed him softly and said, "Everything is going to be okay."

All he could do was look in her eyes.

She placed her hand on his chest, leaned down and kissed him again. Longer and with more confidence this time, her tongue wanting to feel his again. When she tried pulling away he lifted his hand to her face and held onto her kiss.

After several minutes Cameron finally pulled away and he let her.

She slid her hand lazily across his stomach and put her head down on his chest. House took his left hand and encouraged her to hold him tighter and she did. He could feel the warm air of her breath sinking through the soft material of his shirt while he closed his eyes and tried to feel as confident about the future as she seemed to be. But he knew everyone had a breaking point and he was still uneasy that he hadn't yet found Cameron's.


	7. Chapter 7

Cameron woke up to the warm feeling of House lying next to her and to a familiar light snoring sound that she hadn't heard in over a month. In the beginning, she would notice it a lot more but it never bothered her. It was more of a reminder of where she was.

Now, hearing that sound again gave her a feeling of relief that felt like the weight of everything that had happened had finally lifted.

House had said he was sorry and Cameron knew how difficult that must have been for him. All the conversations she'd rehearsed in her head, all of his rationale and logic she knew she'd have to battle, all of it had been relegated to two words that punctuated the whole issue for her. Everything she'd planned to say just melted along with the knot that she'd had in her stomach for weeks now.

House never apologized, mostly because he was rarely sorry about anything. He barged through life doing his version of the right thing, or more specifically what was right for him, leaving victims in his wake and never looking back. So it hardly seemed fair that when he did apologize, it seemed to carry more meaning, but somehow it did.

Cameron wanted to roll onto her back to ease the soreness from her therapy but she knew there really wasn't enough room in this bed. Instead, she just shifted a little and leaned more into him, changing her position just enough to feel some relief. His cast that was between them was cold, rough and bulky and she wished it were gone so he could put his arm around her like he so often had.

When she moved closer to him, she was made keenly aware that she was lying up next to his injured leg. As curious as she was, she decided it was best to just go on like nothing was different, at least until he was ready to address it. So far he hadn't even acknowledged that anything had happened at all, like the obvious missing limb was still there just like it always had been. But not everything needed to be talked about. That was something she was slowly learning to deal with as a side effect of being with House.

After all, how do you approach a person who's had four weeks to think about the reality that they've lost their leg and open up a conversation about the fact that they've…lost their leg? She'd be doing nothing more than stating the obvious and she knew it wouldn't go over well with him at all. So the topic would be put on the top shelf for when he decided to take it down, and she was okay with that.

Cameron could stay like this all night. Sleep would be nice but lying here on his shoulder with her arm around him was even better.

She tried to clear her mind and just listen to the rumbling in his chest and as she did she felt her thoughts become hazy as she drifted back to sleep.

Just as her consciousness started to fade, she felt House's body jerk slightly and she opened her eyes. Within a few moments, he jerked harder this time and tried reaching for his leg. He settled back down and she lifted her head just enough to look at him. He had a sleepy scowl on his face but he didn't seem to be awake. She put her head back down on his chest and slid her hand under his shirt and rubbed his stomach lightly.

"I need to leave," he surprised her when he croaked out in a sleepy and raspy voice.

"Why?" She asked into his chest.

"This damn leg is going to keep us both awake," he explained.

"I don't care," Cameron said lifting her head and looking at him.

"Well, I do," he said, avoiding her and sitting up on the bed forcing her to move away from him. He dropped his left foot to the floor, then using his left arm he pushed himself up and off the bed then pivoted himself back into his wheelchair.

Cameron moved back to the middle of the bed, feeling where House had been lying and watched him clumsily make his way towards the door. She wanted to tell him not to leave and to ask him what was wrong but she didn't know what to say or how to say it.

"House," Cameron said softly. He stopped, his back facing her.

"Are we okay now?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied, sounding distracted then paused only for a second before disappearing into the hallway.

Cameron finally rolled onto her back and rested her arm over her closed eyes, wondering yet again what was so hard about this. Her foolish illusion that things had gone back to the way they were slowly dissolved into the reality that nothing was ever that easy with House. Sleep was going to be so easy to recapture while House was still lying beside her but now all she could do was fight with one doubtful thought after another. But everything that had just happened was better than the avoidance that she'd gotten from him up to this point, and she held onto that.

* * *

House was sitting on the edge of his bed, anxious about Mike showing up to get him back down to PT this morning. He leaned over and reached for one of the journals Wilson had dropped on the end of his bed. Leaning over was even a different experience than it had been for forty-five years of his life.

When he tried pushing himself back up, every muscle and joint from his shoulders down to his remaining foot complained about it.

The effects of walking with a cane for five years had been mostly corrected after the Ketamine treatment when his body was finally in shape again. But of course that had been shot to hell when his pain returned. His hip and back were going to have to be reintroduced to walking without a limp again, hopefully for the last time, and his right shoulder would get a well-deserved vacation.

Still no Mike. He started flipping through the magazine and got another stark reminder that his body just wasn't quite what it used to be. Eyeing his glasses on the stand beside his bed, he prepared himself to lean the opposite way this time, giving the other side of his body the pep talk it needed to make the reach.

After his bitching and moaning about being bored, Wilson had finally brought him some things to keep him occupied along with some fresh clothes. It felt good to be in something other than those boring grey sweats that were starting to reek like a junior high school locker room.

His typically lame friend even had a brief moment of coolness and picked out some of his favorite shirts to bring him. House had reached in his bag and grabbed the first one he got his hands on, which happened to be sporting a very faded and by definition even cooler biker skull. From the smell of it Wilson had taken the time to freshly wash them for him, too. House grinned to himself when he realized Wilson would probably make a better wife than a husband. Maybe that's been his problem all along.

He was ready to be surrounded by his own things again; to sleep in his own bed, walk to the fridge for a beer whenever he wanted, TiVo, pee with the bathroom door open, get up and play the piano when he couldn't sleep, and his pal, Steve. So many things he missed like scooting over to Cameron's warm side of the bed when he got cold at night. But he knew none of those things could happen until he got on his feet, and that's what today was going to be all about.

Thinking about being home made him remember how good it had felt to be next to Cameron last night - not that he hadn't already thought of her more times than he could count this morning. She, and the hope that the distance between them was gone, was the first thing on his mind when he woke up. He knew he had been the cause of it and even so, she had made fixing it way too easy on him. He couldn't help but wonder if, like a cat, their relationship had nine lives and he'd just foolishly used up one of them. He didn't want to think about how many might be left.

His mind drifted back to lying next to her. He'd fought any kind of restful sleep since he'd been stuck here but last night, even if for a little while, had helped him forget where he was. It was all good until his damn leg that wasn't even there started giving him trouble.

The possibility that he might continue to have painful phantom spasms was something he was trying to avoid at all costs. So far it had only been some tingling and occasional itching sensations, but the possibility of that little twerp, Fulton, keeping him here any longer than absolutely necessary was also something he was trying to avoid. So this little problem would stay between him and his non-existent leg.

* * *

Cameron walked over to House's room wanting to see him after last night but when she got there he was gone. She saw his iPod and some of his journals, some lying on the bed and some on the table. She looked at the few articles of clothing draped over his chair and his glasses on the bedside table. She missed being around his things.

Then she remembered he had PT this morning and would be trying out his prosthetic for the first time. When she arrived she didn't have to look far to find him because she heard him before she'd spotted him.

"What part of NO do you _not_ understand?"

A battle of wills was unfolding between House and the two people trying to persuade him to use the walker sitting in front of him. It looked as if it was specifically designed to help support his right arm which, to House's dismay and hers, was still in a cast.

Cameron saw him eyeing the contraption with disdain. "Do I look like an eighty-five year old geriatric case to you? It's bad enough I've had to endure your medieval forms of torture on a daily basis and now you want to humiliate me too? That's supposed to be my job."

Ben, the prosthetist, patiently explained, "You can't use the parallel bars until your arm heals, so this is your only option if you want to get up and start walking on that leg."

"I'm sure your brilliant minds can come up with an alternative or I guess we'll be sitting here a while." House smugly proclaimed. He leaned back against the wall, right leg sticking out in front of him. Crossing his arms best he could, he aimed for a look of defiance but came across more like a pouting three year old who wasn't getting his way.

Lorraine rolled her eyes at her juvenile patient before leaning towards Ben to discuss something too quietly for Cameron to hear.

Cameron was a little concerned with House's disposition this morning. When he left last night, she was still confused about where things stood. When he'd crawled into bed with her, she'd hoped things had returned to some sort of normality but when he left without any explanation she began to worry again. Now she couldn't tell if this was just House being House or if there were still other things, mainly them, still on his mind.

* * *

House continued sitting on the bench, watching Ben and Lorraine whisper and gesture toward the parallel bars on occasion. He was adamant about not using the walker. He was not an invalid, a cripple maybe, but not an invalid. If he didn't have that damn cast on his arm he would've been up and mobile weeks ago.

He stared down at the high tech contraption currently attached to his upper thigh. This cyborg-like thing was now his leg. He had to admit it was an amazing piece of machinery. House had done his research while lying in bed recovering and decided on the C-Leg, a state of the art prosthetic that would give him the most chance of resuming his everyday activities, and hopefully more. Besides, it looked the coolest.

The socket, where his thigh and hip were currently encased, was made of carbon fiber, some new space-aged plastic replacement, and was custom made to fit his leg. The hydraulic knee attached to the calf area was computerized and would eventually be programmed to mimic his gait. It consisted of a small black box just above what was now his knee joint. He'd be able to switch feet, depending on his activities. It was a seriously cool piece of equipment, and if he weren't so nervous about learning to use it, he'd be much more excited.

Ben had told him that the foot attached now was designed for everyday walking. It was covered with a silicone outer shell that mirrored his left foot and currently sported a white sock and a familiar black and silver Nike.

He reached down and touched the hard carbon fiber shell. His hand continued down to where the lower leg started. It was strange to not have any sensation as he touched the leg, the cold metal taking the place of his shin. This piece of foreign material was going to be a part of him for the rest of his life.

"We've got an idea." House's thoughts were interrupted. He looked up to see Ben standing over him. He raised his eyebrows waiting for their alternative to making him use the walker because that still simply was not going to happen.

Lorraine walked over and chimed in, "We're going to let you give the parallel bars a try but only if I support your right side."

Letting out an exasperated sigh, House looked up at the ceiling.

"It's this or nothing. You either agree to one of our options or you go back to your room and wait another two or three weeks to have the cast removed and build up enough strength to be able to support your own weight. Your choice."

"Fine." House whined. "You win. Happy?"

"Good. Now, let's go. On your feet," she ordered as she made an upward gesture with her hands, making no effort to offer any assistance.

House flashed a scathing look in her direction as he rocked himself onto his feet, the majority of his weight balanced on his left leg. Once he was upright, he slowly allowed more of his weight to be taken by the prosthetic.

The parallel bars were only a step away and Lorraine took his right arm as he reached for the bar with his left hand.

Suddenly, memories of the infarction came flooding back. He remembered standing in this exact position, weak from the combination of pain medication and too much time spent in bed recovering, arms shaking with the effort of supporting his weight.

His memories of the pain, frustration and betrayal were all a swirling mass inside his head.

He closed his eyes and could see Stacy encouraging him like he was some kind of toddler trying to cross the living room for the first time. He sensed early on that guilt over what she had done had overtaken her and to him it felt too much like pity. He assumed she only came here to cheer him on to relieve her own conscience.

House opened his eyes, trying hard to shake the memories this was bringing back for him. As much as it sucked that he was finding himself in this familiar place, he had to remind himself that the circumstances surrounding it couldn't be more different.

He was the one that felt guilty this time. Everything had been his fault and no one else's. He had put himself back here at these parallel bars learning to walk again and to a certain extent he had drug Cameron along with him.

He looked up, wanting these memories out of his mind and ready to get on with it when he spotted Cameron across the room leaning on her crutches. She happened to glance in his direction and their eyes met briefly as she gave him a slight smile. He looked away, staring back down at his shoes. She had obviously forgiven him for what had happened, why couldn't he forgive himself?

"Ready?"

House slightly nodded then licked his lips as he began to concentrate on what he needed to do.

"Just like we discussed, right leg first. Lift the leg forward and let it swing out until full extension," Ben explained.

House complied, staring down at his shoes as he watched the leg swing out in a controlled, fluid motion. The leg felt heavy, cumbersome, as if he had a giant pendulum attached to his thigh. The heel touched the mat about two feet in front of him.

"Now transfer your weight to the right and continue your stride," Lorraine encouraged him from under his right shoulder.

His left hand clinging to the bar, House transferred his weight to the prosthetic and as he felt it follow through and start to trail behind him, he quickly stepped forward with his left foot.

"It's not going to collapse. You've got to have confidence," Ben tried to reassure him, "Try it again."

House took another step with the right leg and this time he leaned a bit more on that side, feeling the pressure of his weight focusing on his hip and outer thigh. He fought the urge to catch himself as the prosthetic leg continued through the walking motion.

"Keep looking forward. Quit staring at your feet. You'll find yourself hunched over and out of balance."

Exasperated, House replied " Yeah, well it's kinda weird having no idea where your leg is when you can't feel the damn thing."

Continuing to stare at his feet, he thought back to when he was a kid learning how to walk on stilts. This felt the same except now he only had one stilt but it had two flexible joints making it feel wobbly and unsteady.

He chanced a quick glance in Cameron's direction. She gave him a reassuring smile as he pursed his lips and looked away, he hated feeling weak in front of her.

Fifteen minutes later, House was feeling a bit more confident and was starting to put a few strides together, his posture more upright and the walking motion more fluid. On the next step, he caught the toe of his right foot on the mat and slightly stumbled forward, catching himself with his left hand while Lorraine strained to hold up his right side.

"Get that left leg under you," Lorraine strained to push him upright.

House muttered a string of curses aimed at his leg and anything else within striking distance.

"You're just getting tired," Ben tried explaining the reason for stumbling, "I think you've had…"

"No," House interrupted, "I'm not tired."

"You're leg isn't as strong as it used to be. You just didn't lift your right one quite high enough. Not a big deal." Ben tried again to reassure House, checking the leg and making sure it was okay.

"Couple more steps." House demanded, angrily positioning himself between the bars again. He didn't even wait to make sure Lorraine was ready. He started his stride, followed through, then stepped forward with the left and immediately stepped again with the right bringing him to the opposite end of the bars. He repeated the effort one more time ending up where he's started.

House grimaced slightly as he pivoted around and sat down heavily. His hand immediately reached for his thigh out of habit but all he felt was the hard outer shell of the prosthetic. It felt good to be able to walk again, no matter how unsteady or jerky the steps had been.

Ben kneeled in front of him and began helping remove the leg. "You did good but you're still limping. Try to think about distributing your weight evenly as you step forward with your left leg."

How many years had he needed to avoid using that leg, fearful of putting too much strain on the damaged muscles and nerves causing the inevitable bolt of lightning to radiate from his knee to his hip? Learning to get over that fear was not going to be easy.

Ben pulled the prosthetic off and House started unrolling the sock covering his remaining limb.

As he was placing House's leg by the wall, Ben reminded him, "Make sure to put that shrinker sock back on to keep the stump from swelling. You'll have a hard time fitting it into the prosthesis if you don't."

House cringed, "Do you have to use that word? It's not a damn tree you know."

"What word? Stump?" Ben smiled trying to lighten House's mood a bit.

"Just use something else like…hmmm," he placed his finger on his chin and looked up in mock thought, "I don't know…how about _leg_," he pronounced, glaring directly at Ben.

He got the hint. "Also make sure to massage the st..._leg_ at least a few times a day to increase circulation."

"Yeah, that's been a little tough on account of this thing." House held up the heavy cast on his right arm.

"Things will get much easier once that comes off," Ben added, "How much longer?"

"Not soon enough," House grumbled under his breath as he struggled with the elastic sock that he was trying to put over his leg. Ben gave him a hand and House transferred back to his wheelchair.

Ben pushed House towards the doors where Cameron was standing, "Is Dr Wilson getting you today or do we need to page Mike?"

"Page Wilson," he answered.

"Okay," Ben laughed smiling at Cameron.

"Doesn't he ever get tired of you?" Ben directed back at House.

"Wilson? Naah, he lives for this stuff. Satisfies his neediness quota for the day."

Ben just walked away, shaking his head.

"Hey," Cameron offered.

"Hi," is all he could say still feeling uncomfortable about feeling so weak in front of her, or anyone else for that matter, but especially her.

"Cool leg," she said sounding a little hesitant.

"Totally. Serious babe magnet," he looked up at her and finally smiled. He never felt at all attractive using his cane because it mostly made him feel old and weak, but this little baby had potential. He was glad she hadn't felt compelled to tell him how good of a job he'd done. He wasn't a puppy who needed praising. This was going to be a grueling process but at least the first day was behind him.

"Planning on trolling for chicks when you get out of here are ya?" she asked with a hint of playful jealously in her voice.

"Hell yeah," he replied then indicating the leg sitting at the end of the bench. "That thing's made of some high tech stuff like what they use in spy planes and military weapons. How cool is that? Chicks will be falling all over me," he said, refusing to give in to her insinuations.

Cameron cracked the side of his wheelchair with one of her crutches as Wilson came through the doors, "You rang?" he asked in a low sing-songy voice.

"Get me out of here," House demanded.

"Yes sir. I exist only to serve you, sir," Wilson rolled his eyes and bowed reverently before grabbing the handles of his chair.

"Dare I ask you if you want a ride again today?" Wilson risked, hesitantly looking at Cameron out of the corner of his eye.

House looked up at her, feeling a little more comfortable about it today than he did yesterday.

She grinned at House, "As much as I'd like to," then she turned her eyes to Wilson and continued, "Fulton told me to try to bear as much weight on my knee as I could today. So I think I'll walk…but thanks."

"Your loss," House mumbled as Wilson started them out the door. Cameron followed, her crutches still tucked under her arms but only as a safety net. Putting weight on her knee felt good to the rest of her body but her leg still wasn't too sure about it.

On their way to the elevator House ordered, "Let's take a left here."

"Not the way back to the room," Wilson said in an obvious sarcastic tone.

"Do you think I'm an idiot? Just do it," he clipped back.

Wilson tilted his head to the side, lifted his eyebrows, and put on an expression of 'I know I'm going to regret this' then did what he asked.

"Take a right down here and to the end of the hall," House added.

"Isn't that the maintenance room?" Cameron asked.

"You actually showed up for the new employee orientation tour?" he crunched up his face and turned to look at her. Cameron's expression moved from serious to a little embarrassed for always following the rules.

"Figures…" House mumbled and faced down the hall.

When they arrived at the door, Wilson tried turning the doorknob.

"Locked, too bad," Wilson said in mock disappointment pulling back on House's wheelchair to turn him around.

House grabbed the left tire and whined, "Have I taught you nothing?"

Wilson rolled his eyes and looked at Cameron then gave up trying to move his wheelchair any further.

House made overly exaggerated gestures to pat down the pockets on his pants then looked at Wilson, "Holy pocket-protector Batman, you've surely got something useful in that utility belt," House smirked.

For Wilson's sake, Cameron tried not to laugh but she couldn't help herself and it finally escaped partially through her nose and came out as a slight snort.

Wilson smacked his own chest in disgust and pulled the plastic pouch out of his breast pocket and handed it over to House, surrendering all fear of getting into serious trouble with Cuddy.

House rummaged around until he found a sturdy paperclip and pulled it out. He lifted it up and eyed it like it was the answer to his prayers and said, "You're such a trusty side-kick," shifting his eyes from the make shift tool then over to Wilson.

"Side-kick? I thought I was Batman?" Wilson droned on like this was just another one of House's antics that he'd gotten wrapped up in that would inevitably end up bad…for him.

House let out an overly obnoxious laugh, "Yeah, right," rolling his eyes away from him and towards Cameron who just smiled at him. She was enjoying the comedy act so long as she wasn't involved.

House unfolded the paperclip and stuck it into the keyhole on the doorknob. He rolled his eyes up while he concentrated, trying to feel for the click, like that would help somehow. After several tries he mumbled, "Where's a good car thief when you need one anyway?"

"He quit because you were strung out on Vicodin, remember?" It was Wilson's turn to smirk.

"Oh yeah…that's right," House acknowledged as he continued to concentrate on the lock.

One last try then he heard what he'd been hoping for, "Ppfftt, who needs him anyway?" He swung the door inward toward the dark cluttered room full of tools and gadgets of all kinds.

"Now if I were a saw, where would I hide?" House questioned, tapping his finger on his chin.

"No way," Wilson protested holding his hands out to his side.

"Way," House wrinkled his face up at Wilson using his snarkiest valley girl impersonation. He wheeled himself inside searching for what he needed.

Wilson spied the cast saw lying on the workbench. He tried nonchalantly stepping in front of it while acting like he was actually helping him look, but hoping to hide it from House's view.

"I really haven't taught you anything have I?" House said, disappointed, "Move."

"So just who do you think you're going to talk into doing that for you? It's not like you have two good hands, and even if you did I wouldn't let you within a mile of me with a power tool," Wilson warned.

House reached around Wilson and grabbed the saw and announced, "Cameron would," then he turned and looked at her, "wouldn't ya?" Cameron turned three shades of red, "Oh…my…god," she mumbled, glaring back at him. This time Wilson was the one that snorted through his nose then turned a little red himself. It had been a while since he'd been able to catch Cameron off guard like that and the familiar feeling of it felt good.

"Make yourself useful and plug this in," he ordered, nodding in the direction of the outlet down by her feet, and handing the electrical cord to her.

"You think you're so smart. Do it yourself," still glaring at him, while her natural color hadn't yet returned to her cheeks.

House locked on to her eyes accepting her challenge, "Okay, I will," not moving his eyes from her he reached over and after a try or two managed to plug the saw into the outlet that he'd spotted mounted on the workbench.

"Nice…" was all Cameron could say while trying to hide her grin, unable to stay pissed when he was in such a playful mood.

House flipped on the saw and started hacking away at his cast with his one free hand.

"You want to lose a couple fingers, too?" Wilson blurted out then turned a little sheepish.

House just glared at him and turned off the saw then handed it to him.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Wilson relented and slowly shook his head from side to side.

After about ten minutes, House was free of his cast. His arm was pale and wrinkled and smelled a bit like an old pair of sweaty tennis shoes. He immediately began scratching at the flaky skin, letting out a satisfying sigh then he slowly bent his arm at the elbow a few times while flexing his hand. He had lost a considerable amount of muscle tone and was going to need some serious physical therapy on it but now it would be sooner than later.

House wasn't able to wheel himself back to the rehab wing just yet, but he went through the motions while Wilson pushed him. If everything went as planned, he'd be out of this damn chair soon enough.

* * *

Wilson opened the door to Cameron's room and she walked in, still holding her crutches under her just for support.

"This is my stop, too," House said.

Cameron turned and smiled at Wilson while House wheeled himself in. It was still a slow process but he managed it himself. Wilson stood awkwardly just inside the door then finally unconvincingly announced he had a patient appointment in a few minutes.

"Close the door on your way out," House ordered, not turning around to look at him and headed for the sink in the corner of her room.

"Yeah, okay…well…you're welcome," he snipped out at House and lifted one corner of his mouth in a pleased grin at Cameron.

"Thanks, Wilson," she offered, raising her hand in a lazy wave.

Cameron watched as House parked himself next to her sink and pulled his shirt off. He turned on the faucet and held his right arm under the warm running water. She saw him close his eyes and she imagined how good that must feel to him.

"You need anything?" she asked.

"Got any soap? Something that doesn't smell like a girl?" he said.

Cameron chucked out a 'maybe' then went into the shower and grabbed a bar of hospital-issued soap and grabbed a clean towel.

She walked over to the sink and leaned her crutches up against the wall.

"Can I help?" she asked.

"I can manage," he said rubbing the warm water over his wrinkled and pale skin.

"I know you can," she answered trying to imply she wanted to help anyway.

House looked up at her as she ran the dry bar of soap under the warm water and started gently rubbing it up and down his arm, "It's not sore is it?"

"Not really, just a little stiff," he answered looking back down at his arm.

Cameron admitted, "I'm glad that thing is finally off."

"You? I'm the one that's been wearing the damn thing," he countered then looked up at her.

"I know," she smiled at him, locking onto his eyes. He smiled back and Cameron's heart skipped. She was glad the awkwardness that had come between them was finally gone. She couldn't say things were completely back to normal but the improvement over yesterday was significant. She could imagine House still had a lot on his mind and living here in the rehab wing was sure to be affecting both of them to some extent.

Cameron put the soap on the side of the sink and cupped her hands together gathering water and pouring it down his arm while she rinsed the suds away. He just watched the water spill into the sink. When his arm was soap-free, Cameron picked up the towel and dried him off. When she was done, House picked up his shirt and put it back on, and Cameron dried her hands off on the towel.

"You're gonna need some lotion on that," she said, looking at the condition of his skin.

"Does it smell like a girl?" he asked.

"Probably," she laughed.

"No thanks," he replied looking at his arm and running his hand over the newly exposed skin.

"Do you think you can stand up?" she asked.

His eyes questioned her, and she added, "I could help you…or you could use my crutches."

He hesitated. Cameron knew outside of the PT room that he'd only attempted transferring himself from one place to another, nothing more. Standing and balancing himself on his remaining leg without his new prosthetic and the assurance of someone strong enough to help him was something she figured he wasn't too sure about.

"I'm twice your size," he argued quietly, "and you're not exactly steady yourself."

"Then use my crutches," she countered.

House thought for a minute then locked the wheels on his chair and leaned forward figuring just how he was going to manage to pull this off. Cameron moved over to his right side, leaned over and pulled his arm around her shoulder. Using the sink and his left hand he tried lifting himself up. Pausing just for a second to balance himself and pivot his foot squarely under him, he pushed himself the rest of the way up and Cameron grabbed one of the crutches. She put it under his right arm as she cautiously moved away, her hands still touching him and smiled, leaving him one good leg and one crutch to hold himself up.

"Don't ask me to go anywhere, cause that ain't happenin'," he lifted his eyebrows and chuckled nervously.

"I don't want you to go anywhere," she said as she stepped close to him, slid her arms around his waist, and looked up at him. His eyes said he was still uncertain about this being a good idea.

"We can do this," she said with quiet confidence as she held him tighter, taking the crutch out from under his arm and leaning it back on the sink. The strength in her left side complimented the weakness in his right side and visa versa.

"We're like yin and yang, equal and opposite forces balancing each other out. Well, not exactly equal," looking up and making note of how tall he was, "but oh well," she joked lightly before resting her head on his chest then he wrapped both arms tightly around her.

"That's all I wanted," she said completely content.


	8. Chapter 8

House stood with his arms around Cameron, her head resting on his chest. Now that his cast was gone along with the distance between them, he could finally hold her properly.

He questioned why he'd denied himself this for so long. Being in this place with Stacy had been such a different experience. Cameron was right. She wasn't Stacy and he knew that expecting a repeat of what happened during his infarction hadn't been fair to her.

He hated what he was putting her through. The painful and frustrating physical therapy, the continued discomfort in her knee and ribs, the absence of her spleen now causing her to be more susceptible to certain illnesses, and causing her to be holed up in this rehab hell like he was. All of this was his fault - his stupid and cocky mistake.

House had never been able to forgive Stacy for going against his wishes and making a decision that he had to live with every day of his life, but the tables had turned this time. Cameron was the one in the position to be doing the forgiving and it appeared she had, unconditionally, but something inside him still refused to trust in that. He knew he would always be expecting her blame to rear its ugly head somewhere down the road and then this would all finally fall to pieces.

But standing here with his arms around her, he couldn't find it in him to turn away in an attempt to avoid the inevitable. This felt too good. A small voice inside him tried arguing the possibility that he just might have it figured all wrong, and if he did, he'd be a damned fool to let this go. He reasoned he'd let Wilson lecture him a few too many times.

House felt himself becoming unsteady and was afraid that any minute now, they'd both end up in a heap on the floor.

"I need to sit down," he croaked.

Cameron squeezed him tighter, "No."

"Uh…yes," he said like neither of them had a choice, holding on tight and afraid to lean back far enough so she could see that he was serious.

He quickly and clumsily moved his left hand from her back to the sink and she steadied his right side again, leaning over and helping him sit back down in his wheelchair. Cameron placed a hand on each of the arms of his chair and leaned in and kissed him. He gladly returned it and after a few moments pulled back, looked into her eyes and gave her a curious grin.

"Hey, I missed you," she defended playfully.

"I can see that," he laughed lightly, still a little hesitant.

"Anyway, you need a reminder before you go picking up too many babes with that hot new leg of yours," she chuckled then kissed him again inviting his tongue to join hers. This jealous and possessive side of Cameron was new to him, and he liked it, a lot. How is it that she had managed to make him feel desirable even sitting here crippled in a wheelchair?

"Be careful," he mumbled into her mouth, then pulled away to look at her, "I'm not in any position to make good on any promises here." Even he knew how unconvincing it sounded, but he was serious. As much as he wanted it, he didn't feel ready for this.

Cameron started kissing him again after giving him a daring smile then he could no longer help himself. He rolled his eyes before closing them then lifted her shirt and put his palms on the small of her back. He slowly but firmly started sliding his hands up her sides when she flinched a little and issued the warning this time, "You might want to watch my right side there," she said.

House quickly moved his hands to her waist and his lips went dead. "I'm sorry," slipped out before he could stop himself. He wasn't only sorry for grazing her bruised ribs, he was sorry for everything, and he suddenly felt even more uncomfortable. He wanted to touch her but felt he didn't deserve the right because of what he'd done to her.

"Don't be," she said, continuing to kiss him, her tongue strongly encouraging him to respond. She took his hand and moved it from her hip, up the front of her shirt and to her breast. He slid his hand inside the cup of her bra wanting to touch her directly. House felt a slight hitch in her breathing and his heart started to race. Then unexpectedly they heard a quick knock at the door then the slight creak of its hinges as it opened, "Allison?" a voice asked hesitantly.

"Oh, shit," Cameron moaned against his lips causing House to quickly remove his hand.

"What? Who is that?" House breathed out. She rested her forehead on his, closed her eyes in regret and said, "I'm so sorry for whatever might happen."

She slowly straightened herself up, adjusted her shirt, and reached for her crutches. "Hi, Mom." She looked as flustered and light-headed as he felt from being so rudely snapped out of his first intimate moment with her in weeks.

House took the towel off of the side of the sink and casually placed it in his lap to cover the results of what Cameron had started to stir. He figured it was better for her mom to question what was underneath rather than knowing for sure. It's not like they were a couple of underage teenagers doing something they weren't supposed to, but Cameron seemed shaken by her arrival so he tried to be discreet.

* * *

When Cameron's parents walked into her room acting a little uncomfortable, she knew they had seen something. She just wasn't sure what. Shit. This was _not_ going to go well.

"Hi Allison," her mom said again trying to hide any feelings that they'd interrupted something, "Dad and I thought we'd come and surprise you," she grinned awkwardly.

She started walking towards them, crutches tucked under her arms, "Well, you did," she chuckled trying to shift away from the tension that had so quickly entered her room. She gave her parents each a customary but weak hug.

"Maybe you should have called first," Cameron offered, trying hard not to show her frustration.

"Well, we weren't exactly expecting you to have…visitors," her dad hesitated, glancing over at House. Cameron knew it wasn't about having visitors, it was about walking in on a visitor who had his hand up her shirt.

House was sitting with his elbows propped on the arms of his chair, his hands folded in his lap, and he was looking out the window. Cameron suspected he was trying very hard to disappear or maybe just trying to keep the unspoken rule of 'thou shalt not butt in where parents are concerned' that they'd seemed to have adopted a long time ago.

"Oh…yeah," she started, making a feeble attempt to act like she'd forgotten he was there, but sure she was totally unable to pull it off while her heart was still racing. Forgetting that he was there was the last thing she wanted to do, but her parents obviously left her no choice.

"This is my friend," she paused trying to think quickly, "Greg." She hoped that whatever happened, House would just play along, but that was unlikely. He was about to easily deduce they had no idea he existed…as something other than her boss, anyway. God, she hoped he would understand. It was _not_ a good sign that his mom obviously knew who she was based on their conversation a couple weeks back. Shit.

He looked towards them and nodded his head quickly upwards acknowledging the introduction but seeming uninterested.

"Greg," Cameron said, feeling awkward using his first name, "these are my parents, Patricia and Robert."

"Nice to meet you," Robert offered stepping over to shake his hand, making no effort to hide his observation of House's missing leg. House complied with very little enthusiasm. Thankfully, she hadn't yet received any piercing glares from him.

"You're a patient here?" Patricia assumed innocently but was poking around too much for Cameron's liking.

"Yeah, he just dropped by for a while," she interrupted with a fake and nervous chuckle. This story was quickly falling apart, but everything would be okay as long as they believed he was just a friend and not her boss. Oh hell, who was she kidding? This was spiraling downward faster than she could manage, and in so many directions.

"I see," Patricia said a little suspiciously but finally turned her attention back to Cameron, "so how are you? I only know what Sam tells me. You haven't returned any of my phone calls." Cameron gave a silent sigh of relief that they'd apparently bought her lame story.

'I know, Mom, I'm sorry," she said distractedly, "I'm just kind of concentrating on getting out of here."

"When do you think that'll be?" Robert asked. They had both finally taken a seat and Cameron sat down on the edge of her bed and stretched her leg out in front of her.

"I'm not sure yet. The doctor told me I could start putting weight on it today so that's a good sign. But I won't be able to function around the house very well on my own so that might put things off a bit," mid-way through that sentence she knew she had said the wrong thing.

"Well, why don't I come and stay with you for a few days?" Patricia offered willingly.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw House's eyes snap to hers and suddenly she felt like she was quickly drifting out into some dangerous waters.

"That's okay, Mom," she started, "I'd rather stay here anyway since I have so many friends working here and all." She hoped that would appease her and then it would be the end of it.

"Oh Allison, you're ready to be home again," Patricia insisted like she knew what was best for her daughter.

Cameron felt a familiar flavor of anger starting to well inside her.

"No, Mom," she said sternly, "I'll go home when I'm ready," she paused then offered, "but thanks for the offer," trying to keep things civil.

Another knock came at the door as one of the nurses poked her head in, "Sorry to interrupt but is…there you are. Dr House, Dr Fulton is looking for you."

Cameron closed her eyes and slowly let out what little air she had in her lungs. When she opened her eyes her mom was looking at her with a puzzled expression on her face while her dad was looking over in House's direction. Cameron turned to House who was looking out the window once again.

"House, if you want to leave, it's okay," she offered quietly.

"Do you _want_ me to go?" he responded not taking his eyes from the courtyard outside.

"No, but it's up to you," Cameron responded, really not wanting him to go and feeling this conversation was probably long past due anyway.

"Then, I guess I'm staying," he responded quietly and finally gave her a decisive look.

It wasn't something that House needed or probably even wanted to be involved in but she just didn't want him to leave, maybe for her own selfish reasons. If nothing else she wanted him to have a better understanding of just why she hadn't told them about him. She had very little doubt that they'd be showing their colors any minute now that they knew who he was.

Cameron turned back to the nurse who was waiting on an answer, "Can Dr Fulton come back when he's finished with his rounds?"

"I'll give him the message," the nurse responded.

"Thanks…" Cameron offered to her back as she'd already walked out the door.

"You're Dr House? Allison's boss?" Patricia asked bluntly.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs Dunbar," he finally offered as a smart-assed introduction.

"You've only got one leg," Robert finally voiced the observation he'd been making since he'd walked in the room.

"Oh my god, where'd it go?" House over-exaggerated, reaching for his missing leg and looking around the room then completely dismissing him, trying to make Robert feel like the idiot he was for stating the obvious.

"Sam told us you had a bad leg but…" Robert's voice trailed off.

"Yeah, well, I got tired of the limp and just decided to cut the damned thing off."

Cameron felt confident that House could hold his own next to her parents, and she was hesitant but more than ready for them to realize she wasn't the Allison Dunbar that they tried so hard to mold into their ideal little girl anymore. So she took a deep breath and hoped she was doing the right thing.

"House and I were on our way to work when the accident happened. That's how he lost his leg." She waited for a moment, hoping they would put the pieces together sooner than later but when they said nothing she went ahead and continued.

"We've been together for a while now," she paused again, refusing to share anymore with them.

"Allison…" Patricia finally said in her classic judgmental and disappointed tone of voice.

What the hell was it about her parents that could make her feel like she was twelve years old again?

"Don't, Mom," she warned.

"What?" Patricia asked innocently.

"Just don't," Cameron closed her eyes and put her hand up warning her not to say anything more.

Robert finally turned back to House, "You always mess around with your employees? And how old are you anyway?" he added.

"Yep, been through all of them," he rolled is eyes up as if he was recalling the events. "First Robert and then Eric. I was just saving your daughter for last," he said casually, "and to answer your other question, hell, I'm probably as old as you are," he smirked.

Cameron hated this. She loved House but her parents were…well…her parents. But she knew it was past time that they started accepting that she had her own choices to make and to stop acting like anything she did that wasn't on their little list of what was acceptable would reflect poorly on them.

"Listen," Cameron finally said quietly towards the floor, "maybe you should just go."

"Us or him?" Patricia asked, glancing at House.

"You," she answered looking squarely at her mom.

"Allison, we didn't raise you this way," her mom said in her disappointed tone again, looking back at Cameron.

"What way?" House interrupted, "To care about people and not judge them? Obviously not," he laughed out, "she must have picked that up from somewhere else," he finished with a controlled amount of sarcasm. Cameron could tell by the tone of his voice he was trying to hold himself back.

"I don't know why you had to move away from your family after Blake and the baby…" Patricia's voice trailed off while ignoring House's observation, "now here you are doing things that you're going to regret someday."

Cameron felt her blood begin to boil at the insinuation that being with House was some kind of a mistake compounded by her mom's blatant disregard for her own privacy. It was _her_ life, and _her_ experiences, and _her_ choices, and her mom had no right. Cameron wanted to look over at House and gauge his reaction but she couldn't. She should have done this without him.

Cameron stood back up, rested her crutches under her arms again, and looked squarely at her parents, "I want you to leave," she said calmly but in a way that meant this was no longer up for debate.

Her parents both stood up and Robert half-way turned to House to say something but decided against it when House just rolled his eyes up at him and furrowed his brow. That particular expression was one House only pulled out when he was completely pissed. It was quite evil looking and would clearly second Cameron's suggestion that they leave.

"Let's go," Robert quietly encouraged his wife, taking one last glance at House as he put his arm around her waist, ushering her out the door and then followed, leaving the door open.

Cameron faced the empty doorway and stood there trembling, unable to move or say anything. She couldn't tell which she was more livid about, her mom casually throwing her past around or suggesting that House was screwing up her life. It felt like one commingled lump in her gut. She had planned to tell him everything, wanted to tell him everything, but on her own terms.

She could hear House moving his wheelchair across the floor then she saw him position himself squarely in front of her. She looked at him wondering what in the hell he was going to say. By now she could only imagine what was going through his mind. Too many things, she suspected.

Aware of his damned uncontrollable need to know everything about everybody, she closed her eyes and mentally prepared herself for the inquisition to begin or for his insecurities to lash out in some way.

Instead, he took her hand and said, "I know that wasn't easy…but you did good."

She opened her eyes and questioned him. That wasn't at all what she had expected.

"I'm so sorry about all of that," she admitted, still unable to slow all the things going through her mind. Her voice was clamped and shaky. She was only moments away from completely falling apart and if he did or said another kind thing she knew she wouldn't be able to stop it.

She just stood in front of him, leaning on her crutches, on the verge of tears. House didn't know what to do for her but she clearly needed something. Dealing with parents was something he was all too familiar with. He loved his mom and it had been so good to see her a couple weeks back, but his dad was a completely different story. He understood how they can get to you, how you can feel completely defenseless around them, and how they can hurt you in a way no one else can.

Even though he knew how big of an ass he was, he realized this was no time to question her about what had just happened. It seemed that Cameron didn't have plans of walking away from this anytime soon, so there would be plenty of time to satisfy his curiosity about what he'd heard.

God, he wanted to hold her but he felt so completely useless sitting here in front of her in this damn chair, crippled and unable to even stand on his own. He felt unable to do anything for her, and being reminded of how he was only screwing up her life hadn't helped.

Finally, he put his left hand on the arm of his chair, reached for one of her crutches and looked up at her, "Gimme" he said, doing his best to deflect the overwhelming feeling of inadequacy. God, he felt weak.

Instead, Cameron stepped forward, positioned herself under his arm and helped him up then propped one of her crutches under his right arm. She wasted no time stepping close and putting her arms around him.

Her crutch was clearly too short for him which left him hunched over allowing Cameron to rest her head on his shoulder. It felt awkward but he put his right arm around her as best as he could without losing his support and then wrapped his left one tightly around her. House felt her take a long and deep breath letting it out slowly down the side of his neck.

It was uncomfortable for him but he was determined to stay there as long as his body allowed or as long as she needed. After all, Cameron had chosen their relationship…chosen him…over her own parents. So doing this was the least he could do. He couldn't remember ever caring about another person more than he cared about her right then, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

Nothing was said at all, until Cameron pulled away and offered House a chance to sit down. Her eyes were red and when she lifted her head he felt a cold damp feeling on the collar of his t-shirt.

House could see her thinking about what had just happened but when she drew in a breath about to say something, House stopped her by placing his lips gently on hers. He kissed her long and slow. She eventually pulled away and attempted to talk again when he interrupted, "Am I going to have to shut you up again?" and raised his eyebrows slightly at her and grinned.

"Maybe," she smiled and waited.

He gave into her suggestion and kissed her again. Cameron reached up and placed one of her hands on his cheek. It was unfortunate that his hands were tied up just trying to keep him standing but he didn't have much choice.

Finally, he pulled away and warned her with his eyes, making sure she got the message. When he saw the resignation on her face he announced, "I'm hungry. Page my driver." Cameron just grinned and wiped the dampness from her eyes.

* * *

House was sitting on his bed struggling just to get his shoe on. He was anxious to get back down to PT today, which is something he never thought he'd hear himself say. But each day he was getting closer and closer to some real form of independence. He had noticed a considerable improvement over his first time trying the prosthetic just three days ago.

He was only using it while at PT but he was staying longer and longer, sometimes three or four hours, trying to get proficient and build up his leg's tolerance to the pressure on his injuries. When he wasn't walking on his new leg he was working to regain at least enough strength in his arm to use his crutches other times. Even when that was too much, often by the end of the day, he could still rely on his wheelchair as a last resort.

PT had been a nightmare for him at first but once he experienced the sensation of walking again, even if it didn't feel natural or completely pain-free yet, he'd become obsessed with conquering his latest challenge and getting home.

He would go to bed exhausted, which probably explained how each of the last three nights Cameron had managed to sneak in and drape herself over him and he wouldn't realize it until he woke up in the morning. But this morning he was awakened early by those damned recurring sensations where his right leg used to be. As long as they hadn't been painful he was in no mood to mention it to anyone. Tingling and itchiness he could tolerate.

By the third night of Cameron crawling into bed with him, he'd begun to think it wasn't by coincidence that she was always lying next to his left side when he'd wake up. Especially since this meant she had to walk around to the other side of the bed before getting in. He knew she had to be curious about his leg. But apart from the moment she found out what had happened she'd never mentioned it or had he ever even caught her looking at it.

He was completely self-conscious about it but her avoidance was starting to nag at him a little as well. He knew she was probably only waiting for him to approach the subject but he couldn't help himself from worrying that she was finding it as ugly as he thought it was.

* * *

House sat down on the PT bench to rest when Ben came over to him carrying something that made House cringe. It was a damned quad-cane. Those silver looking things you see old people using to shuffle up and down the halls of a nursing home. No thank you. He'd managed to avoid the walker and he had no intention at all of using one of those things either.

Ben had a pleased look on his face as he approached him, "Dr House, I think we're ready to get away from the bars and start putting your full weight on your legs now. You haven't been using the bars for anything more than balance anyway. The cane won't be for support either, just for balance. It'll help keep you steady on your feet."

"You've got to be kidding," House laughed, looking at Ben like this must be some kind of a joke. He wondered if Lorraine had put him up to it.

Ben questioned him. "I am _not_ using _that_," House clarified.

He stood up at the risk of falling down, and concentrated on walking to the other side of the room. With a hitch in his gait, he made his way to the other side of the room where he spotted a more reasonable looking cane leaning up against one of the desks. It was still very uncool, but it would get him where he needed to go.

He grabbed it and slowly but with determination made his way toward the PT doors, feeling a bit more steady on his feet with the cane.

"Whoa, Dr House, hang on," Ben yelled jogging to catch up with him, "where do you think you're going?"

"Leaving," he stated simply, not turning around.

"The leg stays here," Ben announced.

"This leg?" House stopped and only partially turned around, afraid to completely lose his balance, indicating to his prosthetic.

"Uh…yeah," Ben chuckled, assuming the leg he was referring to should have been quite obvious.

"Surely you don't mean _my_ leg, the one I paid for," House was really pouring on the sarcasm now, "the one that costs more than my bike. Hell, six bikes," he finished daring Ben to continue to try stopping him.

Ben laughed nervously, "Yes, that one, it needs…" his voice trailed off when House flipped out his cell phone, pressed one button and put it up to his ear.

"Who ya calling?" Ben asked.

"Dr Cuddy, she's your boss too isn't she?" he threatened, but having way too much fun with this knowing Ben was not even close to his league when it came to this sort of a stand-off.

"Do whatever the hell you want," Ben resigned in high-pitched surrender. He waved his hands in the air and turned around, releasing himself of all responsibility.

"Think I will," House said proudly to himself, closing the cell phone, knowing there wouldn't be anyone on the other end of the line anyway. He walked away with a proud smirk plastered on his face.

Suddenly he realized this was his first time wearing his new leg outside of the PT room. He hadn't really prepared himself for the looks he would be getting, especially since all the clothes he had with him had the right leg cut off of them. So his new high-tech limb was fully exposed for all to see.

He tried taking as many back ways as possible up to the rehab wing. Service elevators, back entrances, he knew them all. He'd perfected the art of being in this hospital totally unnoticed. While on his way up, he flipped out his phone again and hit number one on his speed dial.

"Hello," Wilson answered.

"Need your help," House announced as his greeting.

"Little busy," Wilson returned cryptically.

"Go to my place. Get me a cane…and some jeans," completely ignoring him, "then meet me at my room."

"Your cane? What are you up to?"

"Just do it, there might be a little something in it for you," House teased, raising his eyebrows. Why, he wondered, since Wilson couldn't see his expression.

"I swear House, I'm so ready for you to go home so I can get some work done around here," Wilson moaned.

"Love you too, Jimmy," and he clicked his phone closed.

* * *

When Wilson arrived, House was lying on his bed watching the television. Spike TV was running an Ultimate Fight Club marathon. He'd wanted so bad to take his prosthetic off but knew doing so would only make putting it back on worse or even impossible. So he just tried elevating it as best he could to relieve some of the discomfort and swelling, and it had worked.

"So what's this all about?" Wilson asked.

"Shut the door," House instructed.

Wilson used his leg to reach behind him and swing the door closed. He was carrying one of House's older canes, the black one with the white stripe below the handle, and a dark red duffel. He'd ditched his geeky white lab coat, loosened his tie and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

"It sure is a nice day out there," Wilson offered lying his things down on House's bed.

"I know," House replied raising his eyebrows, lifting himself with his arms and carefully swinging his legs off the side of his bed.

Wilson walked over to him, mesmerized by his new prosthetic.

"Pretty cool, huh?" House asked.

"Totally," Wilson knelt down and touched the cold titanium shin.

"Jimmy…" House questioned suggestively.

"Get over it," Wilson sniped, rolling his eyes up at him then back to the leg.

"I didn't want to make a scene in PT but now that we're alone," Wilson cringed, knowing that was the wrong thing to say, "I've been so wanting to check this baby out."

House smiled at his friend's interest. Voluntarily getting an amputation and going the route of a prosthetic was something he would have never dreamed of doing. Even now, if he could turn back time and have the choice, he still wouldn't. But the hell he thought it would be hadn't quite revealed itself yet and maybe it never would.

Wilson, still slightly running his fingers over the various parts of his leg, asked, "So what's the cane and clothes all about?" He took a step back and glanced at House questioningly.

"I gotta get out of here," House mumbled.

"This does not sound good," Wilson worried, and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Fine, if you don't want to walk over to Mickey's and maybe get a free lunch out of it, then I'll ask Cameron to go," he announced, reaching around to grab the remote and turning the television off.

"Right," Wilson chuckled out, "Who else is going? In other words, who's buying?"

House looked at Wilson, trying to make him think how hurt he was by that comment, "What do you mean?"

"If it's you then I'm not going anywhere until I see your wallet... _and_ what's inside," Wilson threatened, but was no where able to pull it off.

"Yeah, whatever," he laughed out, "I gotta get some real clothes on," he said, pushing himself off the bed to stand. He pulled the waistband of his sweats down over his hips then sat back down.

House looked up at Wilson, suggesting he might need a little help and Wilson raised his hands and took a step backwards, "Your on your own there, ace."

"You're such a homophobe," House sniped out then did his best with his good leg to kick the sweats off.

Wilson reached into the bag and pulled out a pair of House's jeans and tossed them at him. House held them up letting them unfold to their full length and just looked at them, knowing there was no way in hell he was going to get these on himself.

Wilson noticed the look on House's face and his mood turned more serious, "Hand 'em over," he offered.

Wilson squatted down in front of him and pulled both of his shoes off. He held the waist of the jeans open while House put his good leg in and he pushed them up until his foot was well into the thigh of his jeans.

Then Wilson put his hand behind the heel of House's prosthetic and put the foot into the other side.

"Damn, your feet are huge!" Wilson exclaimed.

"Jealous?" House offered, trying to deflect his discomfort over the level of assistance he needed at the moment.

Wilson messed with his foot and the opening of his jeans, then admitted, "This ain't happenin'," he looked up at House, "does this thing come off?"

"The foot? Yeah."

"How?" Wilson lifted it up closer and looked on all sides of it looking for his answer.

"Not quite sure," House said a little sheepishly.

Wilson looked up at him hesitantly, the heel of House's foot still resting in his hand," What does that mean?"

"I'm not exactly supposed to have this in my room yet. Ben hasn't shown me how to switch foots, let alone give me the tool for it."

"Ah, it takes a tool?" Wilson questioned, lifting it up closer again, looking for any signs of where a tool might fit.

"Think I read that somewhere," House said, intently watching Wilson and hoping this wouldn't keep him from his plans.

"Ho ho! I see it!" Wilson finally blurted out, pulling it in even closer to get a better look, "there's a little spot here at your ankle where it looks like I need an allen wrench."

"Where's your utility belt when we need it?" House sniped.

"I don't exactly carry allen wrenches in there," Wilson snipped back lying his foot gently back down on the floor.

"You know?" House started sarcastically, "I'm just sure there's all kinds of allen wrenches in that maintenance room downstairs."

Wilson stood up and rolled his eyes and mocked, "You know, I do have a job, and patients, and paperwork, and…" his voice trailed off.

"Free lunch…" House dangled in front of him.

Wilson impatiently headed out the door mumbling, "You _so _better be paying."

Not moments later, House heard Cameron's voice, "Hey."

House turned around quickly, feeling a little unsuitable for visitors, even if it was just Cameron who'd already seen him naked numerous times. It wasn't about sitting here in his underwear but about feeling a little helpless with his jeans stuck around his ankles.

House slowly turned back ahead of him, "Hey."

"What's up? Wilson said you wanted to see me."

"He what? I didn't…" realization striking, "Nice…" House closed his eyes and sighed. Wilson was so going to pay for this one.

Cameron walked around to his side of the bed and smiled, "Hey, you've got your leg on. Cool."

"So what did you want? And…" Cameron finally started to wonder just what was going on, "what are you doing sitting there in your underwear with your jeans around your ankles?" she snickered.

House was relieved this conversation was going the humorous route rather than the 'oh poor House can I help you' route so he played along and raised his eyebrows at her and teased, "Waiting on Wilson."

Cameron, getting around now with just her brace and no crutches, put her hands solidly on her hips, "Should I be jealous?"

"Very…" House locked onto her eyes, "You missed the foreplay. Wilson already felt me up."

Cameron made an 'ick' sound then over-exaggerated creepy chills running through her body, "Thanks for the visual."

"You asked," he grinned.

"That I did," she confessed, "Like I'd ever get a straight answer from you."

"So really…what's going on here?" She inquired.

"Can't stand it around here anymore and thought Wilson and I might take the new leg for a test drive over to Mickey's. Guys day out."

"Ah," she replied looking as if it all suddenly made sense.

"I was on my way down to PT. You guys have a good time," she glanced at the door, acknowledging Wilson as they crossed paths at the doorway. Wilson was holding a set of allen wrenches, wearing a victorious grin.

"Thanks, buddy," House glared at Wilson when he came around and knelt back down.

"I thought she might enjoy that," he chuckled, then started poking at House's foot with the tool. Finally, he managed to get it loose and the foot disconnected from the rest of the leg.

"I swear this is the coolest thing…" Wilson admitted, still completely impressed.

"Trade you," House said bluntly.

"Okay, not _that _cool." he admitted.

He pushed and scrunched the right leg of House's jeans up his prosthetic far enough that the ankle came back out the bottom then he re-attached the foot. He was pretty sure House could manage from there, so he stood up and distracted himself while House finished getting dressed.

House eyed his shoes lying on the floor a couple feet away from him and he sighed. He sure hoped this would all get easier…and soon. Wilson looked at him and followed his line of sight then looked at the shoes.

Wilson knelt back down and reached for the shoes. He untied the laces, and said, "Hey…you'll figure all of this out eventually."

House said, "Not soon enough."

"Give me your foot."

House leaned over and steadied himself on Wilson's shoulders then lifted his left foot just high enough to step into his shoe. Wilson laced it up then lifted his right foot for him, slid the foot inside then laced it up as well.

Wilson stood up, "Okay now, show me your wallet."


	9. Chapter 9

Wilson kept reminding himself to walk a little slower. He was usually the one trying to keep up with House, but for now things were different. He was sure that would change sometime soon.

Walking out the double doors of the rehab wing, Wilson made a left but House made an unannounced right instead.

"Whoa, where ya goin'?" Wilson asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway and turning to look at House, lazily pointing in the direction he thought they were headed.

"That way," House announced, pointing in the opposite direction with his cane, "Besides, I need the exercise," he added as he continued walking.

House's direction was clearly the longer route to Mickey's but Wilson didn't argue. Maybe he just wasn't quite ready to be walking through the main section of the hospital where he'd run into any number of people who knew him. Wilson understood. He was still pretty unsteady on his new leg, so he jogged a couple steps and returned to House's side.

"You're seriously buying lunch?"

"Will you _ever _learn?" House smirked.

"Learn to believe anything you say? Probably not," he shot back.

"Hey, no one's making you come," House distinctly pointed out.

When Wilson had no response, House turned partly to him and grinned.

Before the accident, House had finally started to act like things were turning around for him. His pain management routine was working, and more times than not, he showed up for work with the slightest grin on his face that had Cameron written all over it. House seemed...happy. Wilson didn't need verbal acknowledgement to see it. He was still the biggest ass he'd ever had the pleasure of working with, but the undertone had certainly changed. House was still an ass but not because he was miserable. House simply enjoyed being an ass.

Cameron seemed to fill a void in his life that had been empty for years, even if it just meant getting laid every night without running up a tab. But if that's all there was to it, Wilson knew House would have gotten bored inside of a few weeks. Something about it was working for him – for all three of them. Wilson gave House and Cameron their space, and Cameron understood the friendship he and House had. He only wished his ex-wives could've had the same insight.

It struck Wilson how good it was to have his friend back to his old caustic self again. Despite his rude demeanor and the way he completely abused Wilson's good nature, he couldn't imagine his life without him.

_One Month Earlier…_

Wilson sat his briefcase on the tile floor and fumbled with his keys and a greasy brown paper sack while he tried unlocking the door to his office. He hated being late. It had such a splendid way of setting the tone for the rest of the day. Traffic was tied up on this regular route forcing him, and unfortunately everyone else, to take the back roads full of stop lights, school zones, bus stops, and backed up intersections. Traffic accidents were a daily occurrence for a New Jersey commuter and he normally just went about his day never thinking of it again.

Once inside his office he sat his briefcase by his desk, juggled the bag to remove his jacket and tossed it at the over-stuffed brown leather chair in the corner of the room. Putting the bag on his desk, he sat down and flipped open his briefcase just wide enough to grab a handful of files and sat them in front of him.

He scanned over the details for his ten o'clock appointment while he blindly fished in the bag for his egg and sausage biscuit. Lifting it to his mouth, he almost instinctively rolled his eyes up at his door expecting House to come limping in bitching or gloating about something. Then Wilson would inevitably lose part, if not all, of his breakfast to him. He paused briefly, savoring the moment, thinking he might actually get to eat in peace this morning and get some work done. Not that being late had left him much time for that.

Wilson's cell began to ring and he suddenly had no idea where he'd put it. He patted down his pockets and checked his briefcase when he realized the muffled ring was coming from the chair in the corner. He shuffled around and grabbed it just in time to see Cuddy's office number on the display and he flipped it open.

"Hey," he answered distractedly, walking back towards his desk. Wilson's attention quickly shifted from his files and his first appointment to his phone when Cuddy didn't respond to his greeting.

"Cuddy?" Wilson inquired.

"I just got a call from dispatch," she paused again, her voice weak and unsteady, "they're en route with House and Cameron."

"Oh shit," Wilson mumbled, her words slowly sinking in.

"What happened?" he eventually forced out.

"I guess they were on his bike…on the expressway…" her voice fell away.

"Oh god," Wilson mumbled again, flipping his phone closed and dropping it in his pocket. He put his hand on his forehead and aimlessly looked around the room, his head was spinning and his mind was racing yet every thing, every motion, standing still.

"What the hell…" he mumbled to his empty office, every possible scenario flashing as images inside his head.

When his thoughts finally returned to him, he jogged out his door and started running down the hallway towards the elevator. He foolishly pushed the down button and only waited a brief moment before pushing through the stairwell doors, taking steps three and four at a time until he arrived on the ground floor, winded and heart racing.

The ER was crowded for a Tuesday morning as Wilson ran through the hall, skipping sideways to dodge carts, gurneys and patients. He did a quick scan for his friend or for Cuddy then turned to the nurse behind the desk, "They bring House in yet?" he panted anxiously.

"No, I just heard they're still en route," she answered with controlled urgency.

"What's his condition?"

"He's stable, but possible broken arm or shoulder, leg, losing a lot of blood," she added.

"Which leg?" Wilson looked onto her eyes, unsure of wanting to know the answer.

"I don't know," she said quietly.

Wilson turned from her and looked at the sliding glass doors of the ER through the crowd of people, sitting, standing…waiting. He put his hand on the back of his neck and turned back to her, "And Cameron?"

"She's critical, Dr Wilson. Possible internal injuries."

"Oh god," Wilson couldn't put two cohesive thoughts together. He just jumped from one fragmented scenario to another. What could have happened? What _would_ happen? What if House had just lost even temporary mobility in his left side, or even increased injury to his right side? Losing Cameron? Wilson closed his eyes and tried to halt all of his thoughts when he felt a hand on his arm and he spun around.

"Lisa…" is all he could think to say when he looked at her face and into her eyes. He knew for all the fighting and almost hurtful banter between those two, she cared about House as much as he did.

"Do you know any more? They said House has injuries to his leg but they didn't know which one," he asked almost frantically.

"It's his right leg," she answered, searching Wilson's eyes for answers, "this just isn't fair." She stepped closer and put her arms around him. A little shocked by the expression, he wrapped his arms around her and slowly rubbed her shoulder.

"He's going to be okay," he tried reassuring her but he felt no assurance himself.

"I don't know about that," she responded over his shoulder.

"Yeah, me either," he finally conceded, knowing that his physical condition wasn't their biggest concern.

"You're his proxy," Cuddy said hesitantly.

"I know…" he mumbled, knowing what was going through both of their minds.

"And if he loses Cameron…" Wilson added.

"I know, James, let's just hope he doesn't," letting go of him, searching his eyes for some kind of answer.

"What is it about that bastard that makes us care so much?" Wilson laughed lightly, trying desperately to settle himself down.

Cuddy rolled her eyes in over-exaggeration, "It defies all reason," and tipped her head to the side and smiled faintly at him.

"ETA two minutes, with Dr Cameron," the nurse interrupted.

"And House?" Cuddy asked.

The nurse raised a finger and paused, listening to the conversation in her ear, "Ten minutes."

"Any more on Cameron's condition?" Wilson questioned.

"No. Still critical but they've stabilized her."

"Make sure OR is prepped and ready," Cuddy ordered, feeling the need to do something.

"Already done," the nurse responded, trying to assure her that they were well prepared.

They anxiously made their way to the doors while Wilson rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He heard the siren get louder then deaden mid-squeal and the doors swooshed open as he jogged out to meet the ambulance. He met her gurney moving through the doors, and he joined the crew attending to her. She was still unconscious, the tech squeezing the bag, helping her breathe.

"What do we know?" he asked, trying to stay calm and hold tightly to his medical training.

"Severe trauma to the right side, likely internal bleeding, collapsed lung," the EMT answered professionally.

Wilson looked at her blood stained clothes and hair, her face smattered with dirt and drying blood, "Head injuries?"

"No, it appears both of them were wearing their helmets," he answered again, rolling her into the hallway. She looked so small and helpless lying there.

Cuddy stepped beside Wilson and pulled lightly on his arm, "I'll stay with her, you wait for House."

"Okay," he answered breathlessly, looking at her with uncertainty over Cameron's condition and what he would see when House showed up.

Wilson stepped back and let the crew of doctors and nurses tend to Cameron as they moved her down the hallway towards an operating room.

Wilson took a deep breath and ran both hands through his hair, trying to regain some kind of control over himself. He looked down at his watch but had no idea what time it was when they'd announced House's ETA, however it had already felt like hours since he'd been sitting at his desk eating his breakfast, thankful House wasn't there to bitch at him. Remembering that sent a twinge of guilt through his mind.

He went back outside and paced in every direction, hands shoved inside his pockets then crossing his arms over his chest and finally grabbing the back of his neck with his hand. The waiting was excruciating.

As far as Wilson was concerned, the jury was still out regarding the existence of God, and even if he was real, did he give a damn? He tried bargaining with him anyway, making promises he knew he'd never keep. He was willing to try anything because this was his best friend's life he was pleading for, and in that moment it wasn't so much about House's life as it was about the quality of life he'd be left with.

Wilson looked back down at his watch. It was quarter past ten but it meant nothing to him.

House could be a lunatic but he was a skilled rider and always seemed cautious when Cameron was with him so he wondered what could have happened. He wondered if he hadn't spit toothpaste all down his blue shirt and not had to warm the iron to press a clean white one, he might have come upon the accident. Or worse yet, witnessed it. He weighed the pros and cons as to whether being at the scene would've made a difference when he realized it was a ridiculous and morose argument to be having with himself, but his mind was racing uncontrollably in every direction.

Finally, he heard the faint sound of the ambulance siren. He stepped out into the driveway and looked down the street. God, they couldn't get here fast enough. Wilson jogged back up on the curb when they approached. He grabbed the handles to the back doors and pulled them open.

The EMTs jumped out first then they pulled his gurney out, clicking its wheels into place and putting it down on the cement with a jolt. Wilson stepped immediately to his friend's side and moved along with the crew. He was unconscious, strapped to a backboard, an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Wilson looked down at House's right leg stabilized by a temporary brace with blood soaked bandages wrapped tightly around his thigh. Feeling like he should be doing something he grabbed one of the large gauze pads laying on his gurney. He applied direct pressure to the injury, trying desperately to staunch the flow, but he could see the white of the gauze turning crimson under his fingers.

"What do we know?" Wilson looked up at one of the EMTs and asked.

"His shoulder could be dislocated, possible fractured ulna and radius," then he looked over at Wilson, "and that leg is in bad shape. It's got to be broken in several places. His femoral artery is severed, and there's severe trauma to the knee area."

Wilson looked down at his leg again. They had cut his jeans length-wise to get to his injuries and even though the skin wasn't broken in more than a few places, his knee and thigh looked crushed and misaligned. There were burn marks on his lower leg. Wilson lifted the soaked gauze just enough to see the deep laceration around his scar then quickly added a fresh bandage to the saturated ones already in his hand.

"We've got to take him directly to OR and get this bleeding stopped," Wilson ordered.

"That's where we're headed," the EMT assured him.

The ER staff nudged him out of the way and took over House's care. Wilson stepped back, hands covered in blood, staring in disbelief at his friend lying there, bleeding and looking so helpless. His skin was pale and sweaty.

Wilson grabbed the arm of a nurse headed in House's direction, "Which OR?"

"Six."

He absently lifted his hand to his face, but seeing House's blood, he lifted his other hand to meet it and stared at them for a moment. He pulled his sterile gloves off then disposed of them in the trash.

Wilson returned to the front desk, "What OR is Dr Cameron in?"

"Three," she glanced up covering her mouthpiece, trying to listen to the person on the other end of the phone.

He headed towards Cameron's operating room, stopping off in the men's room on his way. He slowly washed his hands and arms while he observed himself in the mirror. Glancing down at his shirt, he saw a bloody smudge across his stomach. If House were with him right now, he'd probably make some kind of crack about how he worries more than his mom. Damn…Blythe. Wilson needed to call her and John. Shit. Cuddy was right; this was so unfair. House's parents had been through enough with their son in recent years, they didn't need another crisis like this. He leaned down and closed his eyes as he splashed some cold water on his face.

Walking out the door and into the hall, he saw Cuddy going the opposite direction, "Hey," he called ahead, jogging to catch up with her, "how's Cameron?"

"She's going to be okay but she's got three broken ribs. One of them punctured her lung, and the bleeding is coming from her spleen. They're going to have to remove it. Seems to have some damage to her knee, possible torn ligaments…fractured patella."

"Shit," Wilson mumbled, looking up at the ceiling.

"But she's going to be okay…and House?" she asked hesitantly.

"He was unconscious…and he was losing so much blood," he started then looked at Cuddy, "I don't know how they'll ever be able to save his leg."

"Maybe this is a blessing, James," Cuddy offered.

"Only way that'll be is if he sees it that way," Wilson sounded defeated.

Cuddy just looked at Wilson, not knowing what else she could say.

"Well, I'm going to six," Wilson said, walking away, "Let me know if you get any word about Cameron."

Wilson washed and prepped for OR then walked into the room, causing whatever conversation had been going on to suddenly stop. He saw one of the nurses eyeing the other as he stepped up next to House. His friend had a reputation; that was no secret. It was also no secret that he was Wilson's best friend.

"How's he doing?" he asked quietly, trying to ignore the fact that he'd just interrupted something.

"We took some pictures of his leg, but I've got to tell you, I don't see how we'll be able to save it. The images will tell us for sure."

Wilson just silently nodded his head, mindlessly looking at House's monitors, wondering how in the hell he was ever going to break the news to his friend, or to his parents. A woman carrying x-ray films walked through the swinging doors and clipped the films onto the viewing screen.

The two surgeons walked over to examine them. Wilson just stood by his friend, hoping that whatever happened, save his leg or lose it, that it would be whatever was best for him in the long run. He remembered being in the operating room for his infarction, and not so long ago for his gunshot wound. He remembered not envying Stacy's position, and now he found himself in her shoes.

"Dr Wilson," the surgeon paused and turned to look at him but Wilson just focused on House, "I don't see any way we can save this. His knee and femur are shattered. We'd have to do so much reconstruction and honestly there's not much here to work with. You can see here the top third of the tibia, the patella and lower third of the femur are shattered. Even if we were able to stabilize these bones, there's too much damage to the surrounding blood vessels to regain adequate…"

"Get someone from vascular down here. Now." Wilson was not going to give up.

"Dr Wilson, I know you care about Dr House but right now his best option is amputation. You think he's in pain now, that's nothing compared to what he'll feel after we try to piece everything back together here."

"I want another opinion. Call vascular."

The nurse picked up the phone on the wall and paged a surgeon from the department.

House was receiving a blood transfusion, the damaged arteries temporarily closed and a tourniquet placed above the injury site while the OR crew waited for Wilson's decision on how to proceed. He knew every second mattered but he just couldn't give up on House's leg that easily. Not after how adamant he was about keeping it all these years.

Dr Chau, the vascular surgeon on call arrived in less than two minutes. She conferred with Dr Collins and went to work examining House's leg and the damage he had sustained. Shaking her head, Dr Chau faced Wilson, "There's too much damage to the surrounding tissue, no viable arteries to even think about a possible bypass or graft. I'm sorry, there's just nothing left to reattach. I have to agree with Dr Collins."

Wilson put his hands on top if his head, looked up and closed his eyes. After taking a deep breath he finally resigned quietly, "It's your call, Collins."

"Do you want another opinion?" the surgeon asked.

"No, it's your call," Wilson felt like a coward. But he knew this way, for him at least, it felt like taking House's leg was the surgeon's decision and not his.

Wilson turned back to House and stated, "I'm his proxy, do what you need to do."

"Okay," the surgeon lingered on Wilson for a moment then instructed the others on how to proceed.

The rest of what was said and done became a blur as he watched them skillfully remove his leg from the mid-thigh and down. First cutting away his damaged muscle, then using a bone saw to cut through the femur, removing the crushed bone, and finally stitching the remaining skin as a graft to cover what remained. All Wilson could do was wonder if they had done the right thing.

He was sick to his stomach as he looked down at his friend whose life had just been altered forever, and yet he hadn't been given any say in the matter. All Wilson could do now was hope his best friend would understand…eventually.

_Present Day…_

Wilson looked down at House's legs trying to get a sense for how natural it looked now that he had jeans to cover it.

The thigh area on his prosthetic was built to match his left leg. If Wilson didn't know better, he'd never be able to tell.

When he looked up, House was shooting a grimace in his direction, piercing him with a questioning stare.

Wilson lifted his eyebrows in his defense, "You really can't tell," he said, pointing to his legs.

"I never knew you were a leg man." House raised an eyebrow seductively.

Wilson continued to stare at House's legs.

"You're starting to creep me out." House mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

Wilson finally looked away and headed towards the door of the restaurant. Holding it open for House.

Mickey's was a campus hangout just across the street from the hospital. It was a favorite lunch dive for House and Wilson, but only when it wasn't swarming with students. Princeton was on spring break so it shouldn't be too crowded.

When classes were in session, especially on a Wednesday when you could get buffalo wings for a dime a piece, it would be packed with students; med students mostly.

When they walked in the door, House nodded his head in the direction of an empty booth in the corner of the room. Once they sat down, a cute waitress came over to their table wearing a pair of ripped blue jeans, a black, fitted Mickey's t-shirt, and a white waiter's apron around her waist. Wilson knew who she was and on prior visits she'd made it quite clear that she was sweet on him.

"Hi Dr Wilson," she bubbled.

House lowered his menu and peered at Wilson, waiting to see how he would respond to the young co-ed.

"Hey Kimberly," he acknowledged politely, trying hard to avoid House's smirk.

House's eyes went back to his menu before he mumbled out of the side of his mouth loud enough for both of them to hear, "Jail bait."

Kimberly dropped the smile from her face and turned to him, "Hello Dr House."

House just looked up at her and gave her his sarcastic, smart-ass smile.

"I just want my usual," Wilson offered quickly, before House said something embarrassing.

"Caesar salad, dressing on the side, Diet Coke?"

"You know what? Scratch that. Give me ten garlic wings, extra bleu cheese, Cajun fries, and oh," Wilson flipped his menu to the back and quickly scanned his choices, "A Heineken."

"You old enough to serve that?" House asked with mock sincerity, then gave an obvious glance back at Wilson.

She finished writing down his order then impatiently shifted her weight to her other leg, "And for you Dr House?"

"Same," he answered, laying his menu down.

Kimberly scribbled more on her pad, smiled at Wilson and turned to walk away.

"Oh wait," House interrupted, "skip the fries and make it onion rings."

Kimberly paused to make a note then started to walk away again.

House added, raising his voice a little to make sure she heard him, "and make mine Mickey's wicked barbecue."

She paused again to take a note. House let her take a couple more steps before opening his big mouth again, "Oh, and none of that imported crap. Give me a Sam Adams."

With that Kimberly turned on her heels and tipped her head to the side, "So…_not_ the same."

She glared at him, "Anything else?"

House smirked, "Not right now."

Wilson gave House 'the look', took both menus and slid them behind the napkin dispenser sitting next to the wall. He wished he hadn't been in such a hurry to order. The last time he ate here and had the wings and fries, he had the worst case of indigestion ever. He should have just stuck with the salad.

"You know you're going to have to go back to Ben eventually to get that tool for your leg," Wilson dug right into a new topic while Kimberly finally walked away.

"Or buy a set of allen wrenches," House said simply.

"Hm, could do that. But I'm not sure you'll find replacement feet at Home Depot," Wilson countered.

"True," House conceded, lifting his eyes for a moment, probably thinking how cool it would be if you could actually buy designer prosthetics at the hardware store, "Anyway, what's Ben going to do? Call Cuddy?" he asked in a childish voice implying that Cuddy was Ben's mommy.

"Do you have to piss _everyone_ off?"

House crunched his eyebrows together and thought for a second then with certainty answered, "It's my goal in life. Piss everyone off then maybe they'll leave me alone. Doesn't seem to work on you though."

"I'm resilient," Wilson resigned, as he took his beer from Kimberly and she made a point of setting House's down hard on the table.

"Or pathetic," House volleyed back.

Wilson lifted the cold bottle to his lips to take a drink and concentrated, "No, I think resilient works better." Wilson lowered his bottle and explained, "I am to…well…" he hesitated dramatically, "_you_, like the clown fish is to the poisonous, stinging…" raising his eyebrows, "deadly if you will, sea anemone."

House rolled his eyes.

"Your…viciousness…would kill any other creature. So…I'm resilient," Wilson shrugged his shoulders and finished.

"Pathetic…" House took a drink of his beer.

"It's symbiotic," Wilson insisted on getting House to agree.

"A mutually beneficial association between different kinds of organisms?" House questioned distastefully.

Wilson chuckled uncomfortably, "Well…okay…pathetic," finally taking his first drink.

"So, are you actually going to _stay_ until Friday?" Wilson asked.

"It's not like I can just drive myself home. No bike and all that," House deflected the emotions that stirred and took a drink of his beer and continued, "I guess Cameron's brother is coming back to town." House picked at the label on the side of his bottle.

"Sam?" Wilson asked, "He seems like a nice kid."

House's eyes snapped quickly to Wilson's but he wasn't sure why.

"I met him while he was here. The world did go on while you recovered, ya know."

"Nice kid?" House asked, sarcastically.

"Sure, pretty much what I expected for Cameron's brother, I guess."

"The kid was an idiot," House observed.

"Yeah, and you were being your usual," Wilson pretended to search hard for just the right word then paused for dramatic effect, "c_heerful_ self."

House wanted to argue but took another drink instead knowing Wilson was right.

"You two seemed to have worked things out though," Wilson said gingerly, implying he and Cameron.

House, bottle still to his lips, just looked at Wilson warning him of the direction he was going. There wasn't much the two of them didn't talk about. In fact, sometimes it was too much, in Wilson's opinion. But from the beginning of his relationship with Cameron, an unwritten rule had been established that she was off limits. It was Wilson's way of knowing this was something that House took seriously.

Kimberly returned with their order. Reaching into her apron she placed a handful of lemon-scented towelettes on the table and asked if there was anything else she could get them.

Wilson smiled at her, "No, looks good. Thanks, Kimberly."

"I'll be back to check on you in a little bit," she finished, smiling again at Wilson.

As she walked away, House whined, "Where's my extra bleu cheese?"

"You didn't order any," she countered turning around to face him.

"I said I wanted the same as him," House argued back, scrunching up his face and motioning to Wilson.

"Right…" Kimberly walked away and returned a few seconds later with an extra cup of bleu cheese. She sat it down heavily on the table then turned and walked away.

"Want this?" House asked, lifting the cup and offering it to Wilson.

"Unbelievable," Wilson chuckled under his breath, shaking his head and picking up one of his wings.

After digging into their food for a few minutes, Wilson dared to reopen the topic, "So when is Sam coming back?"

"Tomorrow I guess," stuffing an onion ring into his mouth, he mumbled, "It was the only way I could get home early."

Wilson questioned him while he bit into one of his wings.

"We kind of decided…" House rolled his eyes, "Cameron decided…for the first couple weeks or so she'd come over and stay at my place and I guess little brother is tagging along for the weekend."

"Ah," nodding his head. He mumbled 'whipped' into his napkin as he wiped his mouth.

"Wwwhhatt?" House mumbled in return, chicken in his mouth and BBQ sauce on his fingers.

"Wipe?" Wilson covered, handing House a towelette.

House narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously before he continued, "Cameron will be able to drive soon so he can go home," indicating that wouldn't be soon enough.

"I'm going to have to learn to drive with my left foot or just get another bike."

"You gonna get another one?" Wilson asked, suddenly more interested in the question than his lunch.

"How am I going to pick up babes without one," he joked trying to avoid the real subject.

"Definitely. You're just a regular Don Juan," Wilson joked back, letting House know he thought it was a good idea. He'd never liked motorcycles, not just House's. They were dangerous and irresponsible but Wilson saw it as a sign for House to be getting back on the proverbial horse, and that was a good thing.

"I did snag Cameron. Can't be all that bad."

Wilson biting into a couple of fries, tipped his head to the side and raised his eyebrows as if to say, 'you've got a point.'

"And you're okay with that?" Wilson risked again, "Cameron moving in for a while?" trying to gauge just how things were going between them. The circumstances felt too eerie for him not to remember what happened with the infarction and with Stacy. Things seemed to be different this time, but he wanted to put his worries to rest.

"I don't know," House admitted, "ready to be alone for a while."

Wilson's concerned eyes shot up from his food to House. This didn't feel right. This is where things had gone wrong before and House spiraled into a condition he was barely able to recover. As ironic as it may seem, the Vicodin was the only thing that pulled him out.

"Alone alone?" Wilson raised his eyebrows at him again.

"Oh relax, Jimmy."

Wilson could see he was getting uncomfortable with this conversation.

House lifted his beer to his lips and before taking a drink, mumbled, "She isn't Stacy," then he avoided Wilson's eyes and concentrated back on his wings.

That was enough for Wilson. He just acknowledged House's observation with a nod and stuck another wing into House's extra cup of bleu cheese.

"You really didn't want that?"

"Na, I was just doing you a favor by bringing Kimberly back over here so you could watch her sweet tookus walk away again," he said with a devious grin.

"Well, she did serve our beer which means she's at least twenty-one. So technically not jail bait," Wilson observed with mock consideration.

House released a funny little growl and hitched his eyebrows at Wilson.

"I'd never be able to keep up with her," Wilson continued, glancing over at her.

"No, you're right. Definitely not."

"Thanks," Wilson grumped.

"Anytime," House paused, "Anyway, it takes an uber stud to keep up with a girl half his age." House looked over at Kimberly while Wilson just rolled his eyes at him.

That is one area where Wilson knew House was full of crap. It didn't take a genius of a best friend to detect how uncomfortable he was with the dynamics of his relationship with Cameron, especially in the beginning. Not that they'd ever discussed it. But the simple fact that it hadn't been discussed at all, even as an opportunity to throw some testosterone around, told Wilson it was taboo, and nothing was ever taboo with House unless it hit too close to home.

Wilson looked at Kimberly standing behind the bar and when she glanced over at him, he held up his bottle indicating he'd like another. Shortly she returned with his beer and their bills. She picked up Wilson's empty bottle and asked, "Anything else I can get you guys?"

"Want another beer, House?" Wilson asked.

"Nope," he mumbled around one of the garlic wings he'd stolen from Wilson's basket.

Kimberly glared at him, "Sure?"

"Of course," House exaggerated innocently as if he was completely unaware of Kimberly's sudden attitude then turned to Wilson loudly mocking a great deal of concern as she walked away, "You better think twice about that one Jimmy, she's kinda pissy." Wilson simply took a drink of his fresh beer and shook his head.

Wilson ate all the greasy wings and fries his stomach could handle, really wishing now that he's just ordered the salad. While House finished off the rest, Wilson wondered how he could eat like he does, never exercise, and never seem to gain an ounce.

House reached into his back pocket, pulled out a twenty and placed it on the bill. Wilson's eyes widened and his mouth fell open in over-exaggerated surprise, "You were serious? I'm touched," putting his hand on his chest, "What's the occasion? Are you saying…" Wilson finished in an obvious whisper, "Thank you?"

"Oh hell, Wilson, if you're going to make such a big deal about it," House grumped pushing the bill back to Wilson's side of the table.

Wilson laughed, "Sorry," and pushed the bill back under the twenty then House pushed all of it to Wilson's side of the table.

"Can't have Kimberly thinking you're cheap," he smirked.

"Or that you're a human being…" Wilson added sarcastically.

Kimberly made her way to the table, picked up the money and the bill and gave one more 'you're such an ass' glance to House for good measure then walked away. Moments later when she returned with the change, she gave it to Wilson and said, "Thanks for stopping in again, Dr Wilson."

House reached for the bill and turned it over, exposing her phone number.

"Look. Kimberly gave you her phone number. Maybe she wants you to ask her to the prom," he announced loud enough for others to hear.

Kimberly turned and immediately disappeared into the kitchen.

"Was that really necessary?" Wilson scolded in a low voice and his face red from embarrassment.

House grinned, "Come on. It'll be fun. Maybe we can double."

Still laughing, he grabbed his cane then slowly and awkwardly pushed himself up using the table for support. He flinched, closing his eyes and reached instinctively for his thigh. He paused for a second before attempting to put any weight back on his prosthetic.

"You've overdone it today," Wilson warned.

" Yeah…just a little sore," House agreed a little too easily.

"You sure that's it?" Wilson asked, sounding worried now.

"Yep," he deflected as he started to walk out of the restaurant.

Wilson glanced at the table and rolled his eyes, pulled out his wallet, and tossed a five on the table. He looked to make sure House wasn't watching and shoved Kimberly's phone number in his shirt pocket, then caught up to him and asked, "That's not it, is it?"

"No, I'm sure it probably is."

"What's that mean?" Wilson prodded.

"Just feeling a little pain where there shouldn't be any is all," House said.

"Phantom pain," Wilson realized.

"It's not a big deal. Little tingling and itchiness," House said, downplaying it so Wilson would stop worrying.

"That wasn't a little tingling or itchiness I saw back there," Wilson pushed.

"Now that I've lost my leg it's not going keep giving me trouble, okay?" House stressed, closing the topic for from any further discussion.

"Okay," Wilson relented.

* * *

Cameron knocked lightly on House's door then opened it to peek inside. It was dark with only the late day sun coming in the window, landing on the sandy carpet, the television flickering, playing an episode of Sponge Bob. The remote was lying lazily in his open hand beside him and House's head had fallen to the side, his mouth slightly open.

Cameron grinned at how a grown man, let alone brilliant doctor who had the worst reputation in the hospital, could be a fan of Sponge Bob Square Pants and that nerdy little Patrick. She'd laughed at the idea of him liking the cartoon and thought it must be some kind of sarcastic joke she didn't get until she realized he actually bothered to TiVo it.

Often times, at the end of an exceptionally tough case, he'd go home and watch hours of it while Cameron would pick up and read about anything she could get her hands on that didn't contain medical jargon. She missed being at his place. She missed Friday nights falling asleep on the couch in front of UFC, WWF, or some cheesy roller derby tournament, a half-eaten pizza and any number of empty beer bottles. On the rare occasion that Cameron got her way, she'd make him endure some romantic comedy that she'd seen years ago and now felt nostalgic about, listening to him mock it the entire way through. Or sometimes they'd agree on a good psychological thriller. Whatever it was, for Cameron, it was more about being there with him than it was about what was playing on the television.

She limped in and quietly closed the door behind her. She noticed his prosthetic lying on the floor beside his bed. He'd shed his jeans for a pair of black shorts and removed his shoe and sock. She casually looked at his right leg but his shorts were long enough to just barely cover it. She quickly looked away knowing his trust in her was so much more important than her foolish curiosity.

She figured he must be exhausted so she pulled a chair up next to his bed and sat down, watching the rest of the Sponge Bob episode, looking over during the commercials to watch him sleep. She thought of the months after he'd hired her and how her feelings developed for him over that time. How many times she'd tried to talk herself out of it, knowing nothing good would come of it, but it was pointless. She couldn't help the way she felt no matter how hard she tried. Now here she was, allowed to simply kiss him if she wanted, knowing he would very likely wake up and gladly kiss her back. The thought of that still made her smile.

When the cartoon was finally over, she stood up and put her hands on the side of the bed, leaned over and kissed him lightly on his dry lips. He jerked slightly and his eyes opened, trying for a moment to focus, like it would be anyone else coming in here and kissing him.

Finally awake enough to realize what was happening, he lifted his hand to touch her, but forgetting the remote was lying there, he knocked it on the floor. Instinctively, he started to sit up to grab it but Cameron put her hand on his shoulder and kept him in his place.

"Leave it," she grinned against his lips.

"Alrighty then," he chuckled against hers and finally lifted his hand to touch her side.

"Is that damn door locked?" he asked.

"No," she laughed.

"Oh, what the hell, huh? Hopefully, your parents won't be coming back any time soon," he said then backed away from her and looked seriously in her eyes, "right?"

"Unclench, House," she mocked, "Uninvited? I doubt it," and she continued kissing him and he responded, moving his hand higher and letting his thumb graze the front of her breast.

Cameron put her hand on his chest and with a shove, ordered, "Scoot over."

"Uh, not until you lock that door," he warned seriously.

"I just want to lay down, this isn't exactly comfortable," she explained, "move."

House hesitated then looked at her. Cameron could see his reluctance - probably wondering when she would finally just bring up the issue of his leg. She looked at him sincerely and said, "Whenever you're ready, okay? I'm fine with that."

House turned and looked up towards the ceiling, resting his arm over his eyes. Finally, he moved over far enough to let Cameron lay beside him. Her leg still being in a brace, she awkwardly settled down beside him then turned to face him, propping her head up on her elbow. She was sorry she'd obviously made him feel uncomfortable.

"You guys have a good time at lunch?"

House, waiting a few moments before he responded, lifted his arm and looked at her. "Wilson got an invitation to the prom," he said, grinning.

"Oh yeah?" she giggled, "who?"

"Kimberly," he said raising his eyebrows.

"Aahh," she smiled, knowing all about this Kimberly over at Mickey's.

"Wilson shoved her phone number in his pocket and he thinks I didn't see," House gloated, "he's so gullible."

Cameron laughed hard at that, "Yes, he is," and laughed some more until she saw the way House was looking at her.

"What?" she asked.

"What are you laughing at? You're easier than he is," he said, trying to be serious.

"You're a jerk," she furrowed her brow and said through lips trying very hard not to crack into a smile.

"I know," he grinned.

Cameron put her hand on his chest, "So how was the walk over to Mickey's?"

"Well, I made it there and back. All ready to go home."

"I'm ready to get out of here too," Cameron added.

"You're sure it's okay that I'm coming to your place?"

"You? Yeah," then he added, "Sam? Not so much."

"He wanted to help, and I really think it will be good to have him there for the first day or so, don't you?" She waited but got no response. "Anyway, he starts that new job in Chicago and this might be my last chance to see him for a while."

Cameron could see he wasn't thrilled, no matter what the excuse.

"Do it for me?" lifting her eyebrows and giving him a petitioning smile.

He just rolled his eyes and looked away from her then shook his head knowing he wasn't going to win this.

"He's not going to give you any trouble," Cameron assured him, "and hopefully I can tell him the same?"

"How the hell can I agree to that?" House laughed.

"Right," Cameron laughed too, "what was I thinking?" she sarcastically rolled her eyes then it was quiet between them.

"So the walk to Mickey's wore you out, huh?"

"Guess so. I've turned into a lazy ass lying around here."

Cameron glanced down at his leg, "How did your leg hold up?" she asked naturally.

"Okay," he paused, "it's sore."

Cameron chuckled, "Well, I'm sure a walk to lunch and back wasn't exactly on the therapy schedule for day what?" She paused, "Three?"

"Felt good to get out."

"Yeah, I took a walk around the courtyard at lunch time today, too."

The room fell silent again. Cameron was afraid she was pushing things and decided that had been enough.

"How's your knee doing?" he asked, looking uncomfortable again.

"Seems okay. I walked most of the way without having to use my crutches. I think I can give them up pretty soon, but the brace is going to stick around for a while longer, and I've got a few more weeks of therapy."

House puffed his upper lip then tossed the air from cheek to cheek, Cameron getting the clue House was done talking for now - at least about that. She put her arm down and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Shit," he whispered.

"What?"

"The damn remote's on the floor."

Cameron laughed, "Do you want me to get it?" she huffed and asked trying but failing to sound annoyed.

"Would you?" House raised his eyebrows and tried his hardest to find a sweet face.

Cameron huffed again and rolled her eyes then sat up and swung her legs off the side of the bed. She picked up the remote and settled back down. This time House lifted his arm and put it around her.

"I get to pick," she announced, pointing the remote towards the television, flipping the channels.

"It's three fifteen, General Hospital's on," he reminded her.

House patiently watched the channels go by, stalking her finger as it pressed the channel up button on the remote.

Just at the precise moment, he leaned up and grabbed it from her. Just in time to stop on channel six. He held it in his hand as far away from her reach as he could and gave her one of his superior 'I win again' smirks.

"You're such a child," she chuckled lying her head back down on his chest. Unfortunately she'd been forced to watch the soap enough times that she was actually starting to follow some of the story lines. That is something she vowed never to admit to him.

A knock came at the door and House's body froze. He slid the hand he had around her up and over her mouth, "sshh," he whispered and waited.

"Like the TV isn't going to give us away," she laughed into his hand.

Another knock, "Dr House?" then the sound of the door knob turning and the door opening.

House let his hand fall away, "Shit, I told you to lock that damn door."

Cameron snickered, "Sorry," as she turned over to see who it was, "Hi Ben," she smiled.

Ben awkwardly started, "Dr House…you might need this before morning," dangling a power adapter from his hand.

"What's that?" Cameron asked.

"The charger for my leg," he answered, grimacing and closing his eyes.

"Okay," Cameron drew out and tried not to grin. There was so much comedic material coming to her mind she could hardly stop herself, but she reluctantly decided this wasn't the place or the time.

"Where's the rest of my stuff," House questioned unappreciatively.

"You're going to have to come down for the rest of it," Ben said rather proud of himself.

"You're lucky I brought this up to you or you wouldn't have gone anywhere come morning," he added.

House crunched up his face and silently mimicked him and Ben turned to leave.

"Lock the damn door on your way out," he yelled after him.

"Um, patients aren't supposed to be locking these doors."

"Heaven forbid anyone actually getting some privacy," he increased the level of his voice while Ben simply walked out.

"You are _such_ a child," stressing this isn't the first time she's had to point this out in the last ten minutes.

"And you love it," he quipped then caught himself looking like he wanted more than anything to reel those words right back in.

Cameron just put her head back on his chest, and quietly said, "You're right, I do."


	10. Chapter 10

House was ready to be home, but he wasn't looking forward to sharing his home with Cameron's little brother for the weekend. He had tried his best to pout about it but she insisted he give Sam another try and from the sounds of it, Cameron had given Sam the same persuasive speech about him.

He was shoving handfuls of dirty clothes into his bag when he heard the door open and he saw Wilson walking in.

"Got you something," he said, trying to hide the slight smirk making its way onto his face. He tossed a light box toward House who dropped the clothes when he caught it against his chest.

"Um, thanks…I think," looking down at the box wedged against his body, "but as far as I can recall it's not my birthday and Christmas was about five months ago."

House looked up at Wilson, "Besides, you don't even celebrate Christmas."

"Then Happy Cinco de Mayo."

"Muchas Gracias. No sabía que hablas español," rolled off of House's tongue, accent included.

"Whatever, just open it." Wilson rolled his eyes but couldn't help the slight grin crossing his features. He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited anxiously for him to open the gift.

House sat down on the edge of the bed and held the box to his ear, "Hmmm, don't hear any ticking." He eyed the box suspiciously. "Too light to be a bomb. Maybe it's one of those..."

"Oh…just open the damn thing!" Wilson was growing impatient.

"Do you always have to make everything so difficult?" Wilson groaned, plopping himself down in the chair in the corner of the room, resting his elbows on the arms.

"I'm enjoying watching you squirm," he smirked, hesitating for a few seconds then glancing over at Wilson seeing how unimpressed his friend was, "Fine…ya baby."

He pried the box open and removed the white paper covering the gift. Inside was a vibrant stuffed red parrot and an eye patch. House couldn't help but smile. Only Wilson could get away with something like this. He picked up the bird and turned it around in his hand. He looked back in the box as if expecting more, "Where's my cool pirate hat?"

"Sorry no room. Use your Gravedigger hat with the skull and crossbones and pretend," Wilson replied, "besides, haven't you seen Pirates of the Caribbean? All the cool pirates wear do rags now."

"And eyeliner. They've totally gone Goth." House added.

Wilson looked around the room, "Almost ready to go home?"

House stood up, still needing to use his hands to balance himself at first, then tossed the empty box in Wilson's direction causing him to flinch, but instead banking it off both walls in the corner, and into the trash can, "I was ready three weeks ago," he mumbled.

Wilson suddenly quieted down and a hesitant look crossed his features. "Listen..."

"Uh oh. Here it comes." House continued toying with the eye patch and parrot, starting to feel uncomfortable with the impending conversation about to occur, whatever it was going to be about. Wilson's moods were so predictable.

"Can you look at me for one second?"

House turned and looked at him, eye patch covering his left eye, right eye wide with mock interest.

"You're impossible." Wilson leaned forward in his chair, looking at the floor.

Removing the eye patch and taking a more serious tone, House looked back at his friend, "I'm listening. Now get your sappy speech over please so we can get out of here some time today."

Squeezing the bridge of his nose, Wilson continued, "I just…I wanted to tell you…I'm sorry about…" Wilson's voice fell away as he glanced over at House's leg then looked up to meet his eyes.

"What are _you_ sorry about?" House asked with a quiet gruff. He looked away distracting himself with packing his things, looking for whatever he could find to shove in his bag and mumbled, "You weren't the idiot that tried passing on the shoulder."

Wilson just gave a single thoughtful nod and looked toward the window. House suspected Wilson had gotten his hands on a police report at some point but they'd never discussed what really happened. He figured there might be a time when he would, but he doubted it.

"But I was there. It was my call," he added quietly, looking back up at him.

"Stop," House placed both fists on the bed, staring down at the duffel bag in front of him.

"I saw the file, read the notes, saw the films. There was no call to make," he hesitated with his next words and made eye contact with Wilson, "You did the right thing."

Wilson just sat in the quiet of House's room, relieved he understood. He watched his friend pace from the bathroom to his bed, gathering his things. Slowly learning how to accept his new leg – now a part of him for the rest of his life.

"I have a three o'clock, so I'm just going to let Sam take you guys home, is that alright?"

House wished he had his bike so he could just take himself home – or maybe not even home, maybe a nice long ride in the country that would last, oh, until Sam left. He's sure he could manage it by now. Hell, he was sure he could manage driving that shit-pile Chrysler he'd won from video rental guy in an exceptionally brilliant night of poker. It was a very uncool piece of crap to be seen in. But on the occasional rainy day when he got the chance to go out of his way to pass one particular bus stop, honking and waving at now suitably named 'bus stop guy' as he drove by, it was worth all the humiliation.

Unfortunately, it wasn't sitting in the parking lot of the hospital either and he was sure there was no talking Wilson, or anyone else for that matter, into going and getting it for him, except maybe Sam. From the glances he'd gotten from him earlier, he wasn't too thrilled about the arrangement either. He was certain that when Sam offered to come and help, he hadn't figured in the crippled, rude boss turned boyfriend who was screwing up his sister's life and had almost killed her.

Sam was only looking out for his sister, wanting what was best for her, and he'd obviously deduced House wasn't it. But in all honesty, Sam and House probably agreed on that. Cameron could do so much better, but she was still there, for whatever reason. Reasons that would take him to places that he just wasn't in the mood for. He was getting out of this rehab hell and headed home to his own bed, cold beer, his piano, Steve, and feeling Cameron up whenever he damn well felt like it without someone interrupting them. The latter would probably have to wait until a certain brother was gone.

"House?" Wilson asked, trying to pull him back into their conversation, "alright if I just drop by after work?"

"Oh, it'll be a cozy little evening," House mumbled, "don't bother to show up without pizza," he added, shoving his iPod into his bag and glancing at the parrot by his pillow. "And thanks for the new pet," he said while limping back into the bathroom.

* * *

House got re-acquainted with Steve and Cameron checked the refrigerator and the cabinets for food. Sam made at least a half dozen trips carrying their stuff in from the car. Most of it was House's. He not only had his new leg now, which came with it's own case, but he had three different foot attachments, too. But it was the other items they sent home with him that House wasn't all too happy about. Things like crutches and a bench for the shower. Reminders of his new reality, one that wasn't going away once his leg healed.

House sat on his couch with Steve's cage on his lap. "Does he remember you?" Cameron leaned down and asked over his shoulder, looking at Steve sniffing around the treat House had just given him.

"Of course," he answered, closing and latching the door. They both quietly watched the rat suspiciously investigate the little morsel.

"Thank you," she said, still looking at Steve.

House turned to her, "For what?"

"Being civil with Sam…and letting him come and help."

"Like I had a choice," he grumbled half-heartedly.

"Hey, that's not true," Cameron looked seriously at him.

"I'm just ready to be left the hell alone, that's all," House looked back at Steve now nibbling his way through the treat.

Cameron fought her knee-jerk reaction to his tone and thought for a moment. House wasn't the only one in this relationship with insecurities.

"Is it okay that I'm here?" she asked honestly.

He turned and looked at her then back to Steve, "Of course." Something about it sounded genuine and put Cameron a little more at ease.

She folded her arms on the back of the couch and rested her chin on his shoulder then joined him watching Steve bury the rest of his treat under the shredded paper in the corner of his cage. There was something about House's affection for that little rodent that put a tingle in Cameron's chest. She'd once wondered if he had any feelings for anything at all. But what she'd found was that his feelings ran deeper than most people she knew. He just never knew what to do with them, or he was so afraid of them that he'd learned to push them down.

House turned to look at her, but she was still watching Steve…thinking. Just as he looked away, she finally glanced over at him, causing him to quickly turn back to her then he kissed her softly on the lips. Cameron smiled at him finally being the one to make the first move since the accident. She knew that he had to be uncomfortable on so many different levels. He had yet to mention his leg in any way that made Cameron feel he was okay with her being around it, touching it, or even looking at it.

They heard the door slam behind them, quickly followed by Sam announcing he'd finally hauled in the last of it.

House closed his eyes and let go of a frustrated sigh while Cameron insisted on kissing him a few moments more before straightening up and announcing to both of them that she was going to take a shower.

His eyes pleaded with her not to leave him alone with her kid brother, but she only smiled at him, then glared at Sam, "Play nice."

"What did I do?" Sam asked with a surprised look on his face, innocently shrugging his shoulders and lifting his hands to question his sister.

House just turned to him and smirked like a bratty little kid who'd just managed to unjustly escape being chastised.

Then Sam plopped down in the chair opposite the couch while Cameron disappeared down the hallway.

House lifted Steve's cage off of his lap and back onto the coffee table then grabbed the remote, clicking the television on, desperate for a distraction. He lifted his left leg up on the table beside the cage and just stretched his new leg out in front of him.

"I heard mom and dad came down for a little surprise visit the other day," Sam watched House flip through the channels.

House's eyes glanced over at him, trying to gauge his attitude. Sam crossed his arms in front of his chest and continued thoughtfully, "Ya know, come to think of it, I don't think I've ever heard my mom say the word groping before." He chuckled as he shuddered, "That was just weird."

House wondered how long this kid would continue to talk to himself. It had already been about thirty seconds too much. But if he was going to be stuck here with him, he was going to try to make it productive.

"Yeah, couldn't believe the things Patricia let slip out," House eyed Sam for his reaction, then continued, "That stuff about Blake and all that." The worm was on the hook and the line dropped in the water. Now, House just waited for the bobber to sink.

"Hhmm, yeah," Sam narrowed his eyes and looked back at him, "Funny," he paused, "I was talking to Alli about that and she said she hasn't told you about," Sam exaggerated quotes with his fingers then stressed, "all that."

House had to admit this was a smarter fish that he thought. He'd need craftier bait – later.

House leaned over and picked up the other remote. He couldn't find anything distracting enough on TV so he wondered what his TiVo had managed to pick up in the four weeks since he'd been gone.

He finally heard the water in the shower start to run and he looked at his watch. House huffed out a long breath knowing she would be in there at least another thirty minutes. House surprised Sam, tossing him the remote and hitting him in the chest. After struggling to get up off the couch, he grabbed his cane and scooped up his keys with one swipe as he passed the table by the front door.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked, surprised.

"Out. You're boring me," he turned around and smirked uncomfortably.

Sam stood up, eyeing the keys in House's hand, "Should you be doing that?"

"You gonna stop me?" he said with a daring laugh.

Sam walked quickly down the hallway, "Alli!" he tried yelling through the door and over the water, "House is trying to leave!"

House just stood by the door, leaning on his cane and the doorknob with a defiant grin on his face. This was just too good.

When Sam didn't hear anything, he knocked on the bathroom door, "Alli!" he yelled louder. A muffled 'what?' came from the other side. House could hear the water falling to the bottom of the tub in bunches and he knew she must be washing her hair. His thoughts took him only briefly in the shower, remembering the last time he'd been there with her, when the pesky houseguest pulled him back to reality.

"House has his keys and he says he's leaving!" he yelled at the door then turned back to see House waiting and grinning. Little did Sam know the grin was only partly due to his amusement over someone else finally being the one that was acting like a six-year-old. The rest of the grin belonged to his thoughts about just what he'd like to be doing to Sam's sister in the shower.

"What do you want me to do about it, Sam? Let him go."

House crunched up his face and stuck his tongue out, "Tattletale. Looks like _Alli_ likes me more," he gloated then opened the door and walked out. He steadied himself with his cane and held onto the wall as he maneuvered the step down to the sidewalk. He'd only just started working on steps and inclines and was still pretty unsure of himself.

He stuck the key into the driver's side door of his Chrysler, forcing it to moan with pain as he opened it and unceremoniously climbed in. He stretched his prosthetic out under the middle of the dash, put his left foot on the gas and tried starting the engine. At first it protested, having been neglected for over a month, then finally it turned over.

With a couple chokes and coughs, a puff of black smoke came out the exhaust and House hit the gas a little too uncontrolled and the engine revved and choked again. House quickly let off the gas realizing that driving with his left foot might be a little more challenging than he thought it would be. Actually, this would be so much easier if his prosthetic were just gone for the moment because there wasn't enough room to wedge his right foot under the console. But there was no going back now, he said he was leaving and he meant it.

Getting out of the parallel parking spot without bumping the other cars was going to be his first problem. He moved his foot from the gas to the brake and after jerking a couple times forwards and backwards he managed to maneuver himself out and into the street. A few ungraceful stops and starts at the first couple intersections and he quickly got the hang of it.

House, like any good cripple, made a point of knowing where all the drive-thrus were in Princeton and the closest one was over on campus. He headed down the street and pulled into the left-hand turn lane like he would any other time but seeing the sign directing him to the expressway shot a wave of memories through him. Images of the wreck, Cameron lying in the bed of the truck and what he'd done to her, the EMTs rushing around, the smell of the burnt rubber and oil all came rushing back to him.

House was jerked back to the present when the idiot behind him started honking his horn. Looking up and seeing the green light he went for the gas but his right foot was in the way. He leaned down and tried pushing it away then finally hit the gas spitting another puff of black smoke. House drove away flipping the guy off in his rearview mirror. He swerved back into the straight lane from the left turn lane and tried to get the images of that day out of his mind.

He quickly glanced down then blindly reached for the radio and clicked it on. Of course this retro pile of scrap metal only had AM, so he turned the dial and heard it scratch and squawk until he found a broadcast of the Yankees baseball game. He turned the knob a little more finding a preacher yelling about eternal damnation; pass. He finally settled on two men discussing the condition of New Jersey agriculture and the price of hogs, anything to keep his mind from wandering back to the expressway.

Forty-five minutes later, he arrived in front of his apartment, relieved to see two empty spots next to each other so he could just gently pull in. Using his cane, he walked around to the other side of the car and pulled out his twelve pack of Sam Adams and a plastic grocery bag with his free hand. He leaned in and placed them next to his door while he grabbed the wall again, carefully taking one step at a time.

When he walked inside, he found Cameron sitting on his couch, her hair wet, wearing a pair of shorts and one of his t-shirts. She was sorting through their things and creating various piles of laundry. Sam was slouched down in the chair asleep, the remote barely dangling from his fingers. House eyed her little brother again, stepped inside, and slammed the door causing him to jerk and drop the remote to the floor.

"Honey, I'm home," House bellowed like he was acting in a black and white sixties sitcom.

Cameron just turned to him and tried not to grin then looked over at her startled brother.

"Where'd you go?" she asked innocently.

"Out."

Cameron rolled her eyes at him. "You drove?"

"No, I ran all the way to the drive-thru," he answered seriously, "and carrying back this heavy gallon of mint chocolate chip ice-cream was a real bitch." He lifted the bag and motioned it towards her.

"Mint chocolate chip?" her eyes widened.

"Yep, and beer and chips. We're set."

Cameron chuckled, "We haven't been here for a month and all you bring back is beer and chips?"

"_And_ ice-cream," he scolded her.

"Anyway, he's here to help isn't he?" hands full, House motioned his head towards Sam, "he can _leave_ and go get whatever else you think we need."

House added the beer to his hand that was already holding the bag and skillfully made his way to the kitchen. All of this extra weight on his left side was seriously throwing off his balance. He dumped the bag on the table, fished out the ice cream and put it in the freezer then slid the case of beer into the fridge. He pulled out a couple cold ones and shut the door.

Carrying both bottles in one hand, he walked back into the living room and hit Sam on the arm with one of them. Sam turned around and looked up at him surprised, and hesitantly took it from him. House walked around the back of his chair and stood at the end of the couch while Sam just watched, taken a little off guard by his gesture.

House took a drink of his beer and motioned towards the piles of clothes, "Why don't you let him do that? He's here to help isn't he?"

"Take it easy," she scolded, "he's going to do it as soon as I get it sorted out."

"Yeah," Sam punctuated, returning the childish smirk he'd gotten from him earlier.

House sat his beer down on the coffee table. His leg was really hurting. Trying to hide it, he caught himself before he grabbed it and limped towards his bedroom picking up the crutches that were leaning against the wall on his way there. He could feel Cameron's concern boring a hole in the back of his head as he walked away.

He'd clearly overdone it with the leg today and the walk to Mickey's yesterday hadn't helped. He used his cane to shut the door behind him and sat down heavily on the bed, thinking how he was going to manage this on his own. He's sure Ben would have gone over it had he stuck around long enough, and as much as he hated the help he'd gotten in the rehab wing, he had to admit he still needed it. But there had to be a way around this. House pushed himself back up and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them to his knees and sat back down on the edge of the bed.

He took a deep breath before rolling onto his left side, loosening the suction and disconnecting the plastic-like mold from his right hip and thigh. He pulled it gently off of his stump and winced as it began to throb as soon as it left the confines of the encasement. He remained on his left side for a moment before sitting back up, unrolling the silicone liner and soft sock from his leg before gently touching it. He looked closely at it and could see the areas that were red and starting to blister. Ben warned him this would happen if he tried using it too much at first.

House just sat there; jeans around his knees, prosthetic dangling inside them, and what was left of his leg was hurting like hell. But now it was a different kind of pain, one that he hoped could be relieved with an ice pack, ibuprofen and a little rest rather than one that was impossible to relieve at all. He lay back on his bed in frustration, covering his closed eyes with his forearm, questioning which existence was worse.

* * *

Suddenly, House was startled by a light knock at the door. He pulled his arm from his eyes realizing he must have fallen asleep then lifted his head to look at the clock. He struggled to sit up when he heard Cameron, "House?"

"What?" he grumped quietly.

She hesitated before saying, "Can I come in?" but opened the door anyway.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked, trying not to look concerned.

"The tool for my foot," he answered, hopelessly trying to act like he was messing with his prosthetic.

Cameron turned and walked away and House took a deep breath and let it out slowly, running his hands down his bristly face, thinking there was literally no way out of this one while keeping what was left of his dignity intact. She returned, shutting the door behind her and dragging the chair from the corner of his room so she could sit opposite him. Without asking permission she lifted his prosthetic foot into her lap and started trying to figure out just how it worked. He knew it was only a matter of time before she'd notice the condition of his leg and make some kind of a caring or sympathetic remark.

House pointed to the foot and directed her, "There's a spot there by the ankle."

He grabbed the edge of the mattress while Cameron held it up closer and finally saw what he was talking about, "I see it," she answered and released the foot from the rest of the leg. House pulled on the top of it lifting it out of his pants leg and laying it on the bed. Cameron handed him his foot, hardly making any eye contact.

He could tell how hard she was trying to act like this was no big deal. But he knew her, and he knew how big of a deal this was for her. He knew it had to be bothering her that he hadn't yet given her any indication he was okay with her being anywhere near his leg. He knew it had to happen eventually and tried hard to convince himself that if he were to trust anyone, it would be her. But she wasn't Dr Fulton coming in for an exam. She wasn't one of the random nurses professionally changing his bandages. She was the one person whose opinion really mattered to him, and he just wasn't ready to see how ugly she found it. He knew it wasn't rational. He knew, almost for certain, that she was likely more comfortable with it than he was at the moment, but he couldn't convince his insecurities to agree.

"It looks sore," Cameron said, carefully looking up at him.

"It is," he admitted, looking back at her for only a moment then looking out the window at nothing, silently pleading with her not to touch it…please.

"Let me go get you something. Some ice maybe? Ibuprofen?" she offered.

"Sam's going to wonder what you're doing in here," he mumbled. _In other words, Sam is going to think you're in here having to tend to your old, helpless and crippled boyfriend._

"He's gone," Cameron answered cryptically. His eyes met hers and questioned her.

"I sent him to the grocery store," she grinned, "about fifteen minutes ago."

House just gave a subtle nod and turned his eyes toward the window again, "About time."

"Sam's a good guy," she paused, "I really wish you'd try to relax around him."

Sam hadn't given him any good reason to be acting the way he was towards him. Everything just felt so different. Four weeks ago he'd lost what little control he had of his life and everything felt like it had slowly slid downhill ever since.

He missed the intellectual puzzles of work, there was something about his relationship with Cameron that he missed but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, and he missed his leg.

"Well, I'm going to get some ibuprofen and ice," she repeated, getting up and walking out.

He closed his eyes, detecting just a hint of disappointment in her voice and lectured himself asking why he just couldn't let her take care of him like he knew she wanted to. As pathetic as it felt, there was no arguing that he could use a little TLC right about now.

She returned with a plastic bag full of ice wrapped in a towel, a glass of water, and a bottle of pain killers.

Unfortunately, not the kind he was finding himself craving more and more. She sat back down and handed him the bottle, letting him shake out the dosage he wanted then she held out the water. He tipped the glass back keeping her hands and that bag of ice in his view. _You can do this._ He handed the still half-full glass back to her and he returned his hands to the edge of the mattress and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable.

"Here," she offered, handing him the bag of ice.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, a little puzzled.

"It's probably going to swell if you don't get this on there," she added.

"What's wrong?" he asked, bordering on accusing.

"What?" Cameron questioned his tone.

"You don't want anything to do with it." It was definitely accusing now, but he had no reason to believe it was true. He felt his defenses rearing uncontrollably out of nowhere.

"With what?" she asked carefully, afraid of where this was headed, "Your leg?"

House scoffed at her, "What the hell else would I be talking about?"

Cameron took a moment before continuing, "That's not true. Tell me what's going on," she said quietly.

"You're just being Cameron, that's what's going on."

Cameron started to respond then stopped and looked at him, he held onto her eyes and dared her to disagree with him.

"I thought we were so far past this. Why don't you just tell me what the problem is?" she looked away then put the lid back on the medicine bottle and mumbled out of frustration, "like I don't know."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he blurted out.

"It means," she looked directly at him and her voice was strong, "four weeks and you still tense up any time I get anywhere near that leg."

House had no response. He didn't want to fight about this. Hell, he didn't even want to talk about this.

"I should have just taken my chances again and gotten it over with," she hesitated before deciding to continue in a calmer tone, "but I thought this time maybe you could trust me instead. But I see that isn't happening."

House's gaze returned to the window as he felt Cameron's expectant eyes looking at him, waiting for him to respond. The intensity of the emotions coursing through him was paralyzing. He found himself totally incapable of responding yet he knew his silence would only put other doubts and questions in her mind.

God, he wished she would just say something or better yet, do something – like go ahead and touch his damn leg and this argument would be over. Instead, she mumbled a quiet, 'okay', picked up the glass of water then slid the chair back to the corner and left the room.

House bent over and struggled to remove his shoe throwing it hard against his closet door and soon after his jeans were lying in a heap on top of it. He fell back on his bed putting both arms over his eyes and tried to recall the sensation of a white, bitter, haze-filled Vicodin at the back of his throat.

* * *

Cameron sat down among the piles of their dirty laundry and rested her head on the back of the couch, still holding the half-empty glass of water in her hand. For the first time since they'd been together, she started to entertain doubts of where any of this was headed. She should have just dealt with his leg from the beginning but she really thought giving him the time and space to do it himself was what he would have wanted. For her though, the issue wasn't his leg at all. It was after six months of being together, he still hesitated to trust her and her feelings for him. If anything could drive her away, that would be it. Her heart sank at the very notion of that possibility.

She lifted her head then stared down at the glass in her hands, absently turning it around, running her thumb along the smooth sides of it. She looked around and saw her things placed randomly around the room, wondering if maybe she and Sam should just go back to her place for the weekend. Wilson could always come over if House needed someone here. Although she doubted that he'd ask, but maybe that wasn't her problem. Regardless of what he'd said, she didn't exactly feel welcome here now.

Cameron heard the thump-step of House coming down the hall on his crutches and she closed her eyes, wondering what he was going to do or say…or what kind of mood he was going to be in. Now she felt like the one avoiding the situation. He came around the opposite end of the couch, brushed a few pieces of clothing out of the way and sat down, gently dropping his crutches to the floor. Before leaning back, he grabbed the remote off the coffee table and clicked the TV on. He picked up his abandoned beer too but thought better of it and put it back down, it was probably warm by now.

Cameron saw him turn to look at her but she didn't look back. She just sat there, staring at the glass, wondering what she should do. He flipped the channels, not settling on anything until Cameron pushed herself up and limped in between him and the TV and into the kitchen. The distracting channel surfing stopped on what sounded like some quilting show that she knew House would find extremely boring and have no interest in.

She emptied the water into the sink and placed the glass on the counter, looking aimlessly out the kitchen window while her mind drifted off to who knows where. She was at a complete loss for what to do, and she thought about her options. If she and Sam were leaving she couldn't go at least until he came back from the store.

She wished she would have carried in a load of laundry so she could busy herself with it, but now she didn't want to go back in there to get it. She hated this. She'd never felt like this around him before. But then again they'd never spoken to each other the way they just had either, not outside of work. Not when it involved them. Her fears about how everything between them had been too good to be true were creeping back into her mind.

Cameron put her hands on the edge of the sink and fixed her stare on the grassy area behind House's apartment. She'd completely missed Spring and it was her favorite season of the year. Now she'd have to wait twelve more months for another one and she wondered if she'd be here at this window a year from now. She wondered if she'd be in Princeton a year from now. Her thoughts were pulled back into the kitchen when she heard the clatter of House's crutches as he got off the couch and clicked off the TV.

This was ridiculous. Cameron tried accusing herself of being overly dramatic. This was one blip on the radar and she had herself thinking this could be the end of it. But if House couldn't trust her, they honestly had little hope of moving any further than they already were. Not that the current condition of their relationship was a bad place to be but Cameron wanted more.

The shuffling sound of House on his crutches got closer as she heard him walk into the kitchen. He stepped up behind her shoulder and leaned into her, dumping the warm beer into the sink. His silent presence sent waves of heat throughout her body. God, how did this man have such control over her? The _last_ thing she wanted to do with him right now was fight.

When the bottle was empty, he stepped away and dropped it in the trashcan on his way out of the room. Cameron heard the rumble of the piano bench slide across the hardwood floor. It creaked when he sat down as if to ask him where he'd been and that it had missed him.

Cameron turned on the faucet to wash the smell of warm beer down the drain then she walked into the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. She leaned against the wall and watched him delicately touch the keys, trying to decide what to play. Cameron could tell a lot about what was going on inside him when he sat down to his piano. His music always seemed to match his mood.

"Would it be better if Sam and I just went to my place this weekend?" quietly breaking the silence between them.

"Is that what you wanna do?" he asked, looking at the keys.

"No," she said simply but when he didn't respond she added, "but if that's…" then House interrupted her.

"Then don't go," he stopped for a moment, put his hands on the edge of the piano bench then turned to her, "I don't want you to go."

An overwhelming feeling came over her, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. She hoped that someday they could get to a place where House could feel comfortable to just come out and say whatever it was he tried so hard to avoid. But that small admission was enough for now. She believed what he said.

"I'm sorry," she offered quietly. She wasn't really sure what for, but she wanted to put it out there anyway.

House put his hands back on the keys and said, "You have nothing to be sorry about."

Cameron walked over to him and slid her arms down his shoulders and across his chest, placing her cheek up next to his while he started to put down the first few chords to Piano Man, Cameron's favorite song that he played.

"Oh yeah," Cameron growled playfully, kissing him on the cheek.

Then, unfortunately, they both heard the rattle of the doorknob just before Sam came walking in, arms full of groceries rambling on about finding a parking place on the street.

House stopped playing, closed his eyes, and mumbled out slowly, "Un…believable," while Cameron just laughed quietly.


	11. Chapter 11

It felt good to be sitting at his piano again. No matter what happened in his life, it had always been a consistent friend. The eighty-eight keys never changed regardless of the packaging. Sometimes the piano came in the form of his beautiful black baby grand; sometimes the old upright that had been donated to the hospital chapel by the widow of a former patient. They never questioned his choices, never stated the obvious like how downing a couple Vicodin and chasing them with a mouthful of Scotch was a bad idea. They always did exactly as they were told and in return they gave a sound that could round off the ends of even the roughest, shittiest day. Of course it helped that watching him play the piano was a big turn-on for Cameron. She had her own ways of softening the edges of his shitty days, too.

He knew how disappointed she was when she walked out of his room, when he couldn't bring himself to simply tell her what was really going on. How it wasn't about her but it was about his inadequacies. Even before he'd lost his leg he felt she should be with someone younger, nicer…someone who was at least whole or wasn't emotionally stunted.

House, no matter how hard he tried, couldn't fight the demon that whispered in his ear every day since they'd been together. Telling him this wouldn't last, she wouldn't last, the novelty or rebellious taste of it would soon get stale for her and he'd be left alone again, and more broken than he already was. The voice counseled him, telling him that the way to prevent that, of course, was to not let himself fall. Not let himself trust her. Keep up his defenses and no one would get hurt. At least, he wouldn't. If she got hurt it would be her own damn fault. It wasn't like she hadn't known know what she was getting herself into.

As much as these things went around in his mind, it didn't keep him from noticing a cavity that was forming inside him.

The frightening thing about it was that everything about Cameron fit perfectly into it. If she were to leave, it would be empty and would leave him with another painful void. Weaker people might call it need, but House just called it dangerous.

Ever since the wreck, he kept finding himself in this same debate. He didn't want this to end but if it were to continue it only made the danger more treacherous. This had all been kept on a comfortably superficial level until four weeks ago. There was an unspoken understanding that they were exclusive but so far their relationship had just kind of existed, happened naturally…coasted. But now they had obviously turned the page.

When Cameron had offered to leave and go back to her place for the weekend, a lump got stuck in House's throat. He knew he didn't want her to go, but nothing about it felt rational. Any other time he would have welcomed the peace and quiet. House never reasoned on feelings; the only things that dictated his thoughts were logic and science, and until recently, opiates. But this time, as irrational as it seemed, he knew he needed her to stay, he needed to give her just enough to convince her not to go. Of course all he'd had to offer her was what he _didn't_ want. He didn't want her leaving.

House's thoughts returned to his piano and becoming acquainted with it again. Playing a few lines of this, then a few lines of that, trying to adjust to operating the pedals with his left foot. His piano playing was a natural extension of himself so the awkwardness of having his right foot missing made it all feel new. For the first time in a very long time it required some conscious effort again, like everything else did now, it seemed.

House had begun to lose himself in the sounds emanating from the instrument, relaxing him as his fingers moved naturally and gently across the keys. Meanwhile Cameron and Sam put the groceries away. Cameron came to the doorway and House looked over at her and asked, "Why are you doing that?" nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen, "Isn't that what he's here for?"

Cameron tilted her head slightly to the side, gave him a look that said 'I heard you the first twelve times when you reminded me why Sam's here', then asked, "Is Wilson coming over?"

"Supposed to be."

Cameron turned to go back into the kitchen before House added over the sound of the piano, "And he's supposed to be bringing pizza," as he played a couple more chords.

The rest of the evening went pretty much as House expected it would. His leg hurt like hell until he finally sat down on the couch and put the towel and ice pack Cameron had prepared on the sore area. The ibuprofen also helped take the edge off and at least stopped the throbbing. The areas where it was rubbing raw weren't going to just go away though.

Ben had been right about taking it easy at first and House just hoped he could get his prosthetic back on sometime tomorrow.

Trusty Wilson showed up with pizza. As predicted it had extra green pepper, which House hated. It was Wilson's annoyingly passive aggressive way of reminding House who _always_ paid for the pizza. He wished he could learn to like peppers just to piss Wilson off but he figured he'd just pick something new and equally distasteful to put on it. Hell, House wouldn't put it past Wilson to try to convince someone to put pickles on it. Then he'd have two things to pick off and dramatically turn his nose up at, and that would just be too much work.

Sam and Wilson hit it off, of course. Sam spoke idealistically like any real-world newbie would about his new job with the pharmaceutical company and how he was going to change the world. House tried to straighten him out on the ins and outs of big business politics and bottom lines but it didn't seem to get through. This was totally predictable when it concerned a recent graduate and someone not unlike Cameron. Sam wanted to save the world and Cameron had just wanted to save House - both equally impossible to achieve. However, House had felt, and welcomed, her cynicism about the matter as it settled in over time.

Cameron was falling asleep on the end of the couch, her leg brace lying on the floor next to her. Wilson started gathering empty beer bottles while Sam picked up the pizza box, stacked the empty ice-cream bowls and took them into the kitchen. House nudged Cameron in the feet knowing she wouldn't want to miss saying goodbye and that she needed to get up off the couch and go to bed.

Wilson came out of the kitchen and stood in the living room, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

"I've missed this," he admitted, sheepishly.

"Why don't you go home so you can miss it again then?" House sniped, deflecting Wilson's sentimentality.

"Thanks for coming over, Wilson," Cameron added as she slowly sat up and stretched a little, adding mid-yawn, "and for the pizza."

Wilson pulled his keys out of his pocket, "If you guys need anything tomorrow just give me a call."

"Thanks." Cameron repeated as Wilson walked out the door, shutting it behind him.

Cameron looked over at House who was leaning his head against the back of the couch with his eyes closed, "Sam can get you some more ice."

He lifted his head and looked at her, "I hope this swelling goes down by tomorrow or I'm going to be stuck with those crutches all day."

Cameron yelled towards the kitchen, "Hey, can you get House some more ice?" then added, "The bags are in the second drawer by the fridge."

Cameron pushed herself up, trying not to put too much weight on her knee without her brace and told House she was going to bed. House grabbed his crutches with the towel clutched in one hand and pulled himself up. Cameron limped heavily into the kitchen, went up behind Sam and gave him a bear hug from behind, saying, "Thanks Sammy," while House watched curiously from the doorway. Sam turned around and gave her a proper hug and answered, "I'm just glad I could help you guys out."

Sam spotted House watching and added, "Even him," nodding in his direction.

Cameron pulled away and faked her surprise at Sam and then at House, "What's this? Did you guys become BFFs after I fell asleep?"

With that House scoffed at both of them and thump-shuffled himself down the hall to the bedroom. Sam turned back to Cameron and said, "Hey Al…even in all this shit I can see how happy you are. I guess I have to assume he's got something to do with that," he finished reluctantly.

Cameron smiled and jumped up slightly, guarding her right leg, and kissed him on the cheek, "Thanks Sam," she said again then took the bag of ice and left the kitchen.

Cameron stopped off at the bathroom then limped into the bedroom finding House sitting on the edge of the bed looking closely at his leg, lightly touching the red parts that were starting to blister.

"Do you want some antibiotics or anything?" she asked, handing him the ice.

"Maybe I should…if this gets infected I'll be on those damn crutches even longer," he said, still examining his leg.

She returned to the bathroom and came back with a tube of Neosporin. She walked over and handed it to him, "Listen…" He looked up at her.

"About earlier…" she started, as he took the tube and made a point of looking back at his leg.

"I'm not avoiding your leg…I'm just waiting on you," she paused but he didn't look up, "I don't want you to misunderstand that."

"Got it," House said shortly and started smoothing the cream on various parts of his leg.

Cameron turned on the light by the bed then turned off the main light. She limped around to the other side and crawled in. House spent a few more moments putting the antibiotics on his leg then rolled the black nylon sock back on, hoping to get the swelling down by tomorrow. He picked up the bag of ice and the towel then clicked off the light and settled down beside her.

Cameron saw the ice still in his hand and reached for it carefully, looking at him, questioning him without saying a word. He let go and handed her the towel. House lay on his back watching her as she pulled the sheet down and started to lift the leg of his shorts.

"Do you want to take these off?" she asked.

"Cameron," he scolded playfully out of the side of his mouth, "your little brother is on the other side of that door."

"Settle down, tiger," she laughed out, "I just thought…" she stopped mid-sentence when he took the waistband of his shorts in both hands, lifted his hips and pushed them down. Cameron helped him once he got them as far as he could without sitting up. She realized how much easier this was now. Before, when either of them were particularly anxious, they'd spend the better part of their short period of foreplay just trying to get the damn things off while trying not to bump his leg and cause more pain than he was already in.

"Hey, no more voracious sex while you're stuck with your jeans around your knees. I like this," she joked seductively,

"Right," he drew out sarcastically, "now I just have to get my jeans _and_ my new leg off."

"Aw shit, you're right," Cameron immediately felt like an idiot even trying to joke about that.

"From here on out you need to give me at least fifteen minutes warning before you jump me," he said with very little humor or enthusiasm.

"You'll figure something out. You always do," she raised her eyebrows and grinned, trying to recover from her stupid attempt at some humor.

She completely removed his shorts and dropped them to the floor, exposing his boxer briefs. She straightened the towel out over his leg then evened out the bag of ice and gently placed it on top of it. She pulled the sheet up as she scooted up close to him all in one motion.

While she settled down, he pulled his arm out from under her and put it around her, pulling her up to him so he could kiss her. She placed her hand on the side of his face and kissed him back, slowly and gently but at the first request of his tongue Cameron pushed herself up on her elbow and slid her body over his left side. She tried being careful to straddle only his good leg and not accidentally nudge his right one – something that already came naturally to her.

"Easy _tiger_," he mocked lightly back at her, "don't be cruel and start something you're not gonna let me finish."

"Like what?" she grinned at him while she lightly pressed her thigh into his groin.

"Yeah," he held his breath and grunted out, "like that."

She kissed him again, easing off on the pressure below and reminded him, "Sam goes home on Sunday."

"Wanna take bets on how quickly I can get you off after he leaves?" he gave her an evil grin.

Cameron's shocked laugh came out her nose and she snorted before she had the chance to even open her mouth, "You don't have a romantic bone in your body, do you?" She loved it when he talked like that and meant it, and he knew it.

One more comment like that and something was going to happen that would keep her from looking Sam in the eye come tomorrow morning.

"Nope, I'm a guy. What do you expect?" he answered, finally lifting his hands to her back and sliding them under her shirt. She felt his fingers slowly slide down her back, resting on her ass and squeezing it.

"You know," she started, "something that I'm really fond of happens to be right next to that leg we've both been avoiding." She grinned hesitantly at him.

"I thought you weren't avoiding it," he countered.

Cameron just tilted her head and looked at him, playfully annoyed.

"Is that going to be a problem?" he asked a little defensively.

"Not for me…" Cameron baited him.

House just closed his eyes and didn't answer.

"I really do wish I could read your mind; well that's not completely true," she deflected with a chuckle and he opened his eyes to look at her again, "but we just might have to get past this before…" Her voice intentionally dropped off knowing her point was loud and clear.

"It's ugly," he finally admitted, but Cameron knew there was more to it than that. In fact, she _could_ practically read his mind but what she saw wasn't something she thought he'd be real comfortable hearing from her.

"It's a leg…with a scar…that will heal." She immediately knew she'd over-simplified that but she didn't want this conversation to just die. Now that they were finally talking about it, she wanted it settled.

"_That _is not a leg," he said forcefully, "and it's _not _going to heal."

Cameron folded her hands across his chest and rested her chin on them, "I'm sorry."

House closed his eyes again and said quietly, "I don't want you to avoid it anymore."

"Okay," she answered simply, resting her cheek on his chest as House wrapped his arms around her body once again.

That wasn't quite all she was looking for but considering it was House she knew it was a step forward so that was enough. She never imagined a relationship could progress so slowly but he was here with her, which is something she had begun to question would happen again in the days right after the accident. So she couldn't really ask for anything more.

They both lay there in the quiet darkness for a while. They could hear the muted mumble of the TV coming from the living room and see the soft flicker of the light through the crack under the door. Even though Cameron had fallen asleep on the couch earlier, she felt wide awake now. Tired but awake, and she could tell by House's breathing that he was still awake too.

"Are you sleepy?" she asked, still lying on his chest.

"Tired…not really sleepy, why?"

"Sam told me today you were fishing around for details about what my parents said when they were here." She lifted her head to look at him and saw a little guilt creep across his face.

"I should have figured the little runt would squeal," he mumbled.

"It's okay. I should have told you about it a long time ago," she paused, "it's just we never…" and her voice trailed off hoping he would interrupt her but he didn't. He just looked intently at her. "We never did a lot of sharing about our lives before I came to Princeton," she finished.

"I thought maybe I'd just go ahead and tell you if you want to hear it," she said.

"You've kind of got me trapped here. Do I have much choice?" he grinned.

Cameron started to move off him, but he slid his hands to her hips and kept her there. She looked at him seriously and tried again. This time he let her. She rolled off him and onto her back. House reached under the sheets and held up the bag of ice while he turned onto his left side to face her, then balanced the ice back on his leg. He folded one arm under his pillow and rested his other arm across her stomach.

Cameron wasn't sure about this. Many times when he'd been exceptionally cruel to her at work or when certain patients' circumstances came up, she was glad House didn't have this in his arsenal to use against her. Little did he know that a couple of times he had almost hit the nerve right on the head without even knowing it. But her parents had started it and now she felt she needed to finish it. It was better than House poking around who knows where trying to find out for himself. It might as well come from her.

"It was the evening after my last exam," she started. "A bunch of us went out to celebrate and a group of us had done some student teaching so some of our professors came along. We were done with med school and we were on top of the world," she turned to him and grinned nervously, "I'm sure you remember how that felt."

She looked away from him and continued, "Dr Branham had taken an interest in me early on and I'd spent most of my time working under him," then she admitted, "I was attracted to him."

House interrupted her, "Let me guess…grumpy old bastard type?" He grinned at her predictability.

"Old, maybe," she turned her head again and caught his expression, "but you're my first grumpy bastard." She playfully acted like she was serious, but she was relieved by the humor. She was still feeling anxious about going down this road but she didn't want to turn back. If she expected House to learn to trust her, she needed to do this.

"We had met some of their families through social events. Dr Branham even had a bunch of us over to his place on the Fourth of July once. He had a nice house in the country on a lake…a wife…couple kids…" her voice trailed off and she stopped for a moment, regaining her courage while House continued to listen, keeping an attentive eye on her.

"I had a few too many, I guess. I couldn't hold my beers then like I can now," she turned back to him grinning, aware that he knew damn well she couldn't hold them now either. She was failing miserably at masking the difficulty she was having. There wasn't one emotion she owned that she could hide from him.

She turned away and took a slow deep breath, "I don't remember many of the details, but my friends assured me it wasn't all his doing. I woke up in my apartment hung over and alone, and never saw him again," she paused then added, "Which was appropriate I guess. Not that I wanted to face him."

Cameron was quiet for a while and so was House. His undivided, quiet, attention was making an already uncomfortable situation worse. He lightly rubbed the material of the shirt she was wearing, encouraging her to go on. She knew him well enough to know that as soon as her mom had mentioned it, he would be curious about it. Frankly, she was surprised he'd waited this long to say anything.

"It wasn't long after when we found out my best friend Blake's, thyroid cancer had metastasized to his brain." She looked at him, watching for his reaction. This was the part of the story House always thought he knew the ending to. It had always been easier just to let him believe what he wanted to rather than telling him the truth, and there was a time when she couldn't have trusted him, but she needed to now.

"Of course it wasn't long until I figured out I was pregnant," she looked into the darkness and closed her eyes.

"Fresh out of med school, starting up my residency…my best friend was dying, and I was pregnant as the result of a drunken night of stupidity. Blake and Sam were the only ones who knew the truth. All hell would have broken loose had my parents found out. They would have never let me forget how I'd disgraced their precious image," she finished in a slightly bitter tone.

She turned to look at him again, but his eyes were closed. She started to turn on her side to face him but thought better of it when her ribs gently reminded her they weren't quite ready for that yet.

"Getting married was Blake's idea. His prognosis was terminal. So we just let every body, including my parents, assume…" her voice fell off. She lay quiet for a few moments more then finished, "He wasn't a charity case…I didn't _need_ to _fix_ him. I was the damn charity case."

That phrase always took Cameron back to Café Spoleto two years past and the things he'd said as a result of her backing him into a corner. She turned to him and watched while he lay there quietly with his eyes tightly closed like he was recalling the same painful conversation. Making him feel bad wasn't what she had intended so she didn't waste any time moving away from that awful memory.

"A month later Blake died," her voice was clamped and she stopped for a minute feeling her eyes starting to well. She looked over at House and felt a tear roll slowly out of the corner of her eye, and she quickly lifted her hand and wiped it away, foolishly trying to hide it. He was watching her - his eyes were soft. He slid his hand across her stomach and to her side, encouraging her to move closer to him…so she did.

"I made three different appointments at three separate clinics and couldn't bring myself to show up to any of them," she continued. "That's when I decided if there was a God like my parents had drilled into my head since I was a kid, that there's no way he could give a damn about the details of my life. I had no idea what I was going to do."

She turned and looked back up into the darkness above them, "Then one night I woke up cramping and I knew what was happening," she stopped then said quietly, "and I didn't try to stop it…not that I could have."

"I cried for three days after that…not because I'd lost it, but because I'd wanted to. It made me question everything I thought I knew about myself."

Cameron rolled over, scooted back into him and he wrapped his arm tight around her. Things were quiet for longer than what was comfortable for Cameron. Now, she really wished she could read his mind. She knew he was thinking; she just wished she could predict his reaction. But it didn't really matter now.

"Do you want to have kids someday?" House finally asked quietly.

That was a question she'd never thought she'd hear him ask…a question she'd never wanted him to ask.

"I'm not sure I deserve any," she answered honestly.

It took a moment for House to respond and when he did, he let go of her just long enough to brush the hair away from her neck; he kissed her and said quietly against her skin, "That's not true."

Cameron just lay there on his pillow up against him, feeling his warm breath on her neck, trying to feel relieved that it was over. She could feel herself trembling slightly and knew he could probably feel it too.

House moved his hand from her stomach, casually touching her breast and mumbled directly in her ear, "You know…if all Dunbars sleep half as deep as you do, he'll never hear a thing."

Cameron chuckled and could feel her body move against his, "I don't care…I can't." His warm breath in her ear sent chills up and down her spine. If he was trying to relax her, he was doing a damn good job of it. She was glad they weren't going to lay there and dwell on her past or worse yet, House lay there and say nothing.

"C'mon," he whined.

"Listen," he silently held his breath for a moment, "he's out cold. The TV isn't even on anymore."

"All the more reason…" she lost her breath and her train of thought when he lifted her shirt and pressed firmly on her breast and kissed her neck again, running his tongue down to her shoulder.

"No!" she laughed out then sighed involuntarily.

"That doesn't sound very convincing," he argued.

Cameron turned onto her back so he could see her face and know she was serious about this. But without looking into her eyes, he leaned into her and started kissing her and she knew she had just made a very bad move. She felt the ice pack fall from his leg and land between hers. The sensation of the cold plastic against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh made her quickly draw a breath from his.

She felt House smile against her lips as his hand deviously traveled down her side, across her leg and she heard the ice cubes rattle together and slosh around in the cold water as he took it in his hand. Cameron felt the icy cold slowly travel upwards, practically keeping her from breathing at all. She bit her bottom lip trying very hard not to turn the corner where there was no turning back.

"That's cold," she whined softly.

House pulled away from her, looked seductively into her eyes and raised his eyebrows, "I know."

Cameron put her hand on his and took the bag away, dropping it to the floor.

He lifted her shirt higher and started to dip down towards her breasts, when Cameron put one hand on each side of his face and pulled it squarely in front of hers. His eyes were closed and he had a hesitant grin on his face that said 'if I don't look at you, you can't tell me no'. She just held him there until he dared to peek at her with only one eye.

"I said no," she dragged out slowly, trying so hard to be firm but she wasn't sure how strong she could be. God, she missed him…and this.

"You're no fun," he finally resigned and he fell down on his back next to her.

"I'll remember that on Sunday," she grinned and looked at him but he wasn't smiling.

Cameron watched him, waiting for him to turn and smile at her showing the playful mood he was in, but he didn't.

Shit.

Here they were, the closest thing in weeks to being completely alone with no chance of anyone walking in on them and he still can't touch her like he obviously wanted to. Like she _definitely_ wanted him to - more than he would probably believe right now because combined with the issues earlier with his leg, she was sure he was lying there battling his insecurities…again.

"House…I'm sorry," she muttered, now hesitant to touch him at all so she held her breath and bit lightly on her lip, rolling over on her side to face him, "maybe if it were your little sister out there, you would understand."

"I don't have a little sister," he said poignantly, the back of his right arm resting over his eyes.

Cameron chucked nervously and cringed, "Okay…your mom?"

House lifted his arm, squeezed his eyes shut and crunched up his face, "Yeah, yeah, yeah…I get it."

He let her take his left hand in both of hers and she stood his arm up on his elbow between them. She lazily placed her palm flat against his, mirroring it, her mind wondering what she could do to make this up to him. She would have never done this to him intentionally – she hoped he knew that.

"I'm sorry about earlier, too," she said, looking at her hand, sizing it up to his, "I shouldn't have messed with you like that," she said quietly, "I didn't mean to…"

He turned and questioned her with his eyes, wanting her to finish what she was saying.

She locked her eyes onto his, "I miss you. I swear, if Sam wasn't here…" she added with a controlled amount of desperation in her voice.

Cameron didn't see him smile, but his face softened, and she got lost in his eyes. She finally looked back at her hand on his and said, "I love your hands. They're so…" Cameron searched for an eloquent word but nothing came to her, "big." She shifted her eyes towards him and smiled lightly at the overly simplistic description, but he was watching her fingers fail to come anywhere near stretching to the end of his.

She struggled to keep herself from coming out and telling him how she felt; how she was in love with him, all of him. But she was afraid he would pull his head back into his emotional shell. She could barely see it, as it was. She finally slid her fingers in between his, squeezing his hand. A warm sensation radiated through her chest when he squeezed hers as well. She tucked their hands between them and rolled into him. She slid her hand under his shirt, lightly rubbing her fingers on his bare skin and resting her head on his shoulder.

They both waited silently for the first signs of sleepiness to finally set in. House's chest began slightly raising and falling methodically leading her to believe he might already be asleep when he asked, "Can you just go ahead and touch my leg?" He hesitated and Cameron was a little puzzled wondering if he might say anything else, "I want to get this over with."

Cameron closed her eyes feeling relieved, "Sure," she answered before he could mistakenly detect any reluctance.

She shifted her head down to his chest and moved her hand from his stomach down past his hip and rested it on the upper part of his right thigh. All she could feel was the slick nylon sock that he needed to wear to keep it from swelling.

House let go of her other hand and sat up just enough to roll it off. Then he reached for her hand and placed it back on his leg; further down this time so she could feel the healing scars. His skin was smooth and stretched tight. She could feel the lines of raised tissue where they had sewn him back together. She recalled the blisters being mostly on the outside area of this thigh, so she tried to avoid touching him there; not wanting to cause any unnecessary pain.

Cameron left her hand lying casually on his thigh and closed her eyes, finally feeling sleepy. Her arm was resting across his groin where she could sense the lasting results of his earlier intentions, and the guilty pang returned.

"Sunday for sure?" House asked quietly.

"I promise," she answered.


	12. Chapter 12

The pulsing pain in House's leg slowly dragged him from sleep into reality. At least the pain was coming from what was physically there instead of from what was not. He lay there quietly, letting the other side of consciousness slowly drift away.

The sensation of Cameron's arm stretching across his stomach and her soft, warm breath on his shoulder made his thoughts move from his leg to her and how real and unreal she seemed, all at the same time. He flipped through the long catalog of things he'd said to her over time, especially the ones that had prompted pain in her response, pain that now had a story behind it. She'd added a new layer to his understanding of who she was and where she'd come from.

Now he was one of three that knew the truth, one was dead and the other was asleep on his couch. He hadn't asked for the responsibility she willingly gave him, and he wasn't even sure he could be trusted with it.

He sadistically pulled a couple smart-ass moments out of his memory, recalling them in all of their incriminating detail, and wondering again what she was doing in his bed. Bastard was right; she'd hit it square on the head. Yet here she was. Outside looking in, House would have pegged her for weak, but Allison Cameron was not weak. She had a quiet and unsuspecting strength about her that had drawn him in and kept him there. Left up to him, their relationship would have likely been left abandoned at the hospital just weeks ago. But Cameron had a way of making staying with her easier than being without her. He wasn't often wrong about the people he met but her strength had surprised even him. Now he knew more about where it came from.

They say pain makes you weaker or it makes you stronger. Cameron had faired on the good side of that theory.

Unfortunately, House couldn't say the same thing about himself.

The stiff muscles in his back reminded him that he hadn't moved all night and evidentially Cameron hadn't moved from his side, except to roll over on to her stomach. Her arm was still reaching across his body with her other one shoved under her pillow. Her relaxed face against his shoulder made her mouth gape open in a way, that he was quite certain, would embarrass her if she were conscious of it.

His arm was being held hostage between them and he suddenly realized as he tried to move it that it had lost all sensation. He hated to move her, but it wasn't like she'd wake up even if he did. He strained to look over at the clock on the nightstand; 5:41am, and when he did he spotted the bottle of ibuprofen.

He awkwardly reached his right arm towards the bottle and grabbed it. He flipped open the lid with his thumb and shook three pills into his mouth. He swallowed them dry with no effort at all then put the bottle back on the table.

He reached down towards his leg, testing the areas that were sore from his prosthetic. He lightly grazed over it, gauging the amount of pain he might be in if he tried putting it on again today. It was swollen. Shit. He ran his hand up and down the mattress between him and the edge of the bed, finally coming across the sock he'd taken off when Cameron finally touched him. He'd expected…hell, he didn't know what he'd expected but he was just glad it was over.

House tried dislodging his left arm from under her, feeling the tingling sensation from his shoulder down to his fingers.

Finally getting it free, he held it above him letting the blood return and sooth the prickly feelings, making a fist and trying to shake it out. Of course Cameron hadn't moved an inch except now instead of her face being smashed up against his arm it was flat against the mattress next to him.

Careful not to put his arm back down on her face, he pulled the sheet off of his right side and tried sitting up just enough to pull the sock back on. Cameron groaned when she wrapped the sheet around her and ended up on the other side of his bed. She winced for the moment that her weight was on her bruised ribs. He looked over at her and saw the pain in her expression melt away as she relaxed again.

House settled back down, his arms folded and lying across his eyes. Feeling a chill, he looked over at Cameron rolled up in her _and_ his portion of the bed sheet. He tried tugging on it and covering himself with what little bit she'd left him but it was no use. She was going to have to cooperate. He nudged her in the arm, saying her name but there was no response.

He tried rolling onto his side facing her and he put his hand on her hip and coaxed her to turn towards him; nothing again. God, he wished that for just one night he could sleep like that. But for someone who didn't, dealing with someone who did was extremely annoying.

He leaned over towards her, putting his mouth to her ear and said, "Cameron!" not in a loud voice but certainly a sharp and articulate one. Cameron's eyes opened and she stared blankly into the darkness.

"What?" she said, surprisingly clear and almost involuntarily.

"Give me my sheet back," he said plainly.

Cameron blinked into the darkness then narrowed her eyes, trying to comprehend her surroundings and what was going on.

"What?" she whispered, exasperated.

"You gotta roll over and give me my sheet back," he whined, gently tugging on her hip again.

She finally lifted herself high enough off of the bed so that House could reclaim what was rightfully his. Hell, it was all rightfully his, but sharing with Cameron wasn't all bad. _Sharing_ being the operative word, not _giving_. She settled back down with her back to him and he pulled the sheet up trying to warm himself.

He reached toward the blanket folded across the end of the bed and pulled it up over himself while he shifted over to Cameron's abandoned warm spot. He wrapped both arms around her, practically engulfing her small body with his. The chill soon disappeared now that he was next to her and under the heavier blanket. He felt her hand come out from underneath his and she put hers on top, sliding her fingers between his.

House pulled his hand out and brushed a few stray strands of hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ear.

He slid his hand back under hers hoping she would hold it again and she did.

"Are you awake?" he asked quietly, kissing her ear.

"Yeah," she answered and grazed her thumb gently over his.

House moved even closer to her, if that was possible, and wrapped his arms tighter around her.

"Why?" She asked.

"No reason."

Cameron rolled over on her back, still in his arms and looked at him, "Sure?"

No, he wasn't sure. He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. She reached up and touched his cheek lightly with her fingertips, slowly sliding them down his face, one of her fingers grazing the corner of his mouth then stopping along his jaw. The kiss was slow and content, both careful not to push the other any further.

Cameron questioned him with her eyes, "You sure?"

"Sure about what?" he stalled.

Cameron thought for a moment then grinned, "I can't remember. Just seems like you have something on your mind."

"I've always got _something_ on my mind," he hitched his eyebrows at her and grinned.

"Me too," Cameron grinned back and brushed the back of her fingers up his cheek, saying, "Maybe you can shave today."

House's mind quickly ran through the motions. He was so tired of everything being monumentally more difficult now.

"Maybe if I can get my leg on," he finally said, sounding discouraged.

"How is it feeling?" she asked, casually reaching towards it and smoothing her hand over it.

"It's warm," she said, before he had the chance to answer.

"It's swollen," he added, "I just put the sock back on…that's when you stole my covers," scowling at her.

"Oh, sorry," she grinned.

She carefully turned on her right side to face him and tucked her right arm under her pillow. She smiled at him and moved in to kiss him again. She ran her hand around the back of his neck and her fingers played in his hair. She started to pull away but he wasn't ready to let her go and he felt her smile against his lips. Kissing Cameron never got old and he'd wanted to do it since she'd walked into his office on her first interview. Well, her only interview. That was so long ago now. So many things had happened and yet here she was. So many things had changed, too. House knew the good things were because of her.

Cameron took him from his thoughts when she pulled away again. She looked thoughtfully into his eyes and asked again, "You sure something isn't on your mind? I mean I kinda unloaded a lot of shit on you last night."

He just looked at her, thinking about all she'd told him.

"You were right about me being a real bastard," he admitted.

"When did I call you a…ah," she stopped and he could see the memory flash in her eyes, "That seems like forever ago…and I was angry," she explained.

"You should have been," he added.

"You didn't know…" she let him finish her sentence in his own mind.

"Do you think it would have mattered?" he asked honestly. Her hesitation then lack of response answered it for him.

"I already had feelings for you then, ya know," she intentionally moved in another direction.

"Why do you think I'd been looking in your file?" he admitted.

"Cause you're a curious son of a bitch?" she laughed.

"About some more than others," he said seriously.

"Oh well," she snuggled into his chest, "that was a long time ago."

"And here you are," he added.

"Yeah," she yawned, and wrapped both arms around him.

House returned the gesture and rested his chin on the top of her head, "Why?" he asked quietly.

"Why?" she repeated, pushing herself just far enough away from him to look in his eyes and he just looked back, waiting on her answer.

"I don't want to be anywhere else," she said plainly.

"Even after all the shit…" he started.

She wrapped her arms tight around him again, and interrupted, "Even after all the shit, I've never been happier than I am right now."

House laughed and pulled her tight against him, "Then you've had one pathetic life."

Cameron just chuckled and pulled the sheet and cover up close around them. House could feel her hands mindlessly rubbing his back, the movements getting smaller and softer until her breath turned into a light wheeze and she was out again. Unbelievable.

He tried so hard to let everything go and just be there in the moment with her, in the simple honesty that she brought to this thing they had going between them, whatever it was. There was nothing about this, or her, that he deserved but what the hell. He was just glad to be home.

* * *

Cameron woke up feeling the heat of House's body next to her. Sometime during the night he'd taken off his shirt and now her damp face was pressed up against his bare chest. One arm was under him while her other was folded up between them.

Either someone had turned up the heat or, more likely from the angle the sun was coming through the blinds, it was quite late in the morning – or maybe not morning at all. Cameron lifted her head to look at the clock and House gave a sleepy snort and started to turn to his back but gave up on the effort part way there. It was 11:32. This wasn't the first time they'd stayed in bed this late but it was certainly the first time they'd actually _slept_ this late. It felt so good to be home, then Cameron remembered this wasn't technically her home.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected when she finally told House about Blake and the circumstances surrounding her marriage to him. She guessed she'd spent more time wondering how she was going to tell him than she had wondering how he would react. His silence hadn't really surprised her. She hadn't done it to point out that he'd been wrong about her – she hoped he knew that. However, getting over House implying that Blake had been some kind of a charity case definitely hadn't happen over night.

Cameron's thoughts lingered on Blake. Rarely did a day go by that she didn't think of him. They'd been friends since childhood and she still missed him. He was a year older than she was, but he'd ended up repeating the third grade.

With names like Cameron and Dunbar they always ended up in line together or sitting next to each other in class. Then when Cameron's family moved and they started riding the bus together, they were inseparable. Summer days at the pool and summer nights camping in the backyard. Those were the days when summer vacation seemed to last forever.

Through high school, Cameron had had her share of boyfriends and Blake his share of girlfriends but none of them ever lasted. Physical attraction was one thing but Cameron and Blake had something that ran deeper. Neither of them could have ever guessed that the cliché-like promise they made to each other after a few too many drinks would play out in quite the manner that it did. They each had at least another ten years left before they'd have to make good on the deal. She smiled quietly at all the memories that came rushing back.

Losing him to cancer was unquestionably the hardest thing Cameron had ever had to endure.

Cameron opened her eyes and looked at House lying there; half on his side and half on his back. His mouth was slightly open and a quiet hiss was coming from his lips when his breath escaped past them. She remembered being physically attracted to him almost immediately. It wasn't only his rude and smart-assed demeanor during her interview that made her self-conscious but it was his eyes and the way he looked at her, almost inappropriately, the moment she walked into his office.

She'd done her research after Dr Cuddy had contacted her about the position so she knew House was regarded as one of the best diagnosticians in the country. Reading things like that makes you tend to piece together certain expectations, but House shattered all of them before the ten-minute encounter had ended. Calling it an interview would be an incredibly loose interpretation.

But it wasn't until the first time he sincerely looked at her and spoke with a tone that was quiet and surprisingly not sarcastic for a change that she felt something oddly familiar. They were in the lab late one night and Cameron had just finished the test confirming their patient had a rare form of liver disease and House told her that it was the same illness that had killed his grandmother when he was a kid. He brushed past the comment like it meant nothing to him yet something seemed to be just under the surface that he was desperately trying to hide.

The flippant and sardonic Dr House had made a feeble attempt to connect with her and she witnessed a flash of vulnerability that she was quite convinced no one would believe existed. But she'd seen it with her own two eyes, and felt its almost childlike honesty. Cameron began living for those moments, watching and waiting patiently for them.

Eventually it became more and more evident how different he was when they were alone compared to being in the company of the whole team, or even just Wilson. It frustrated her how he could be sincere one minute then mockingly berate her the next. But there was clearly something addictive about those moments. As drawn as she was to him physically, that wasn't the crux of her attraction. It was something deeper. Something she hadn't felt since Blake had died.

Those connections were more and more frequent now. Well at least they had been up until the accident and he pulled himself into his shell again. But finally, lying here with him, things were starting to feel like they were slowly coming back to their version of normal.

Cameron took in a deep breath and noticed the smell of something good coming from the kitchen then remembered they weren't alone. She turned onto her back only for a second before throwing the sheet and heavy blanket off of them.

"Just guess what time it is," she looked over at him, his eyes were still closed and his arm was resting on his forehead.

"Don't care," he grumped out.

Cameron rolled over to him, draping her arm across his chest and propping her head up on her other arm.

"Are you going to be a grump today?" she asked playfully.

"Haven't decided yet," he mumbled.

"Poor Sam," she said thinking of how they'd just left him alone out there all morning as she sat up and hung her legs off the side of the bed and ran her hands through her tangled hair.

"Yeah…poor Sam," House repeated with ample sarcasm.

* * *

House sat heavily on the edge of the bed and shrugged his wrinkled t-shirt back on. Maybe there really was such a thing as too much sleep. He looked at his prosthetic propped up against the chair beside the bed and then ran his hand over his right thigh. The swelling had gone down considerably and the sore spots weren't quite as tender as they had been the night before.

He reached under the bed for his crutches and his body ached as he pulled himself up. Gravity sucked the blood back into his leg and it throbbed a couple times before quieting back down.

Cameron was pouring herself a cup of coffee when House shuffled into the kitchen, "Want some?" she asked, lifting the half-full pot lazily in his direction.

House just nodded and sat down in one of the chairs at the table, looking for a place to lean his crutches.

"Here," Sam offered, reaching for them with a hesitant smile on his face and House let him take them.

"Ali says you like Reubens," he offered, leaning the crutches against the wall trying to keep House's grumpy demeanor from dominating the room.

House carefully took the mug from Cameron and sat it down in front of him while she pulled out the chair next to him and sat down.

Sam slid a plate of hot corned-beef hash covered in a thin layer of melted Swiss cheese and some perfectly toasted rye bread in front of him. Damn it – will this kid finally do something to make him justifiably unlikable?

Cameron watched with expectancy waiting for him to take his first bite.

"Get your own," he sniped at her and all he got in return was a smile. If they wanted him to admit that having Sam here was in fact a good idea, they were going about it all wrong. But as much as he'd pouted the previous night in bed, truth was, he was feeling uneasy about what was going to happen when Sam finally did leave. He was afraid of disappointing her. He knew Cameron well enough to predict how she would react with her brother just feet away from them. There had been something comfortable about knowing she would say no and he wouldn't have to go through with it.

House managed to polish off his breakfast…lunch…whatever you call it when you eat hash at noon with very little expectation that he admit it was actually good, but this kid could cook.

Sam downed his last swallow of milk, sat it on the table and eagerly asked, "What do you need me to do today?"

"Maybe you can take me over to my place?" Cameron said, "Wilson was picking up my mail but I need to check on things myself. And my car is there. I think I should be able to drive it back here okay."

Cameron showered while Sam cleaned up the kitchen. House played around on the piano for a while, working out a new melody that had been playing in his head. Inside of an hour, he was left alone in his apartment for the first time in...he honestly couldn't remember when. He quietly rested his fingers on the ivory keys and closed his eyes, savoring the quiet. Quiet all except for the soothing metallic sounding whir of Steve running on his exercise wheel. Steve had the good life; he was certain of that.

He tried predicting just how long they would be gone and he wondered if he could manage to fumble his way through a shower before they got back. He sat there thinking through the logistics and his frustration over the thought of it alone demanded a bath instead.

* * *

House's incisions hitting the hot water for the first time made him flinch and lower himself into the tub even slower than normal. But once there, the warmth drained away all of his tension. He rested his head on the wall and closed his eyes, running his fingers over his new scars. He put his hand under his leg and lifted it out of the water so he could inspect the end of it. It was healing nicely. The incisions were still red, and would stay at least pink for several more months. But the swelling around them was much improved and the areas he'd worn raw wouldn't need more than a bandage or some second skin if he wanted to put his leg on today.

He lowered it back into the water and relaxed again, thinking about the day. At least they had slept off half of it. He thought about Cameron's request and reached for the shaving mirror he kept in the bucket by the tub. He certainly had let himself go. No wonder Cameron had asked him to shave. But he knew 'maybe you can shave' was only Cameron's polite code for 'you're starting to look mangy'.

He ran his hand against the flow of his whiskers as he regarded himself in the mirror that was starting to fog from the heat rising off of the water. The longer the scruff, the grayer it looked; meaning the _older_ he looked. He had to admit he was going for the sexy look when he'd stopped shaving every day a few years ago. For someone who really didn't care what anyone thought, his own quirky sense of vanity was an enigma even to him.

He pulled the mirror closer, squinting to see the increasing amount of gray around the corner of his chin. He was inspecting it for no good reason really, just enjoying the peace and quiet. He dug through the bucket fumbling for his razor and began working away at his beard, leaving just the right amount and ending with an all out removal of everything on his neck. When he was done he held the mirror out and squared his entire face in it like a portrait and grinned. Cameron would be pleased.

He tossed his things back in the bucket feeling a little embarrassed at himself for caring so much about what she thought. But he did care what Cameron thought, more than he wanted to admit to himself, and he sure as hell wouldn't be admitting it to anyone else anytime soon. He leaned his head back on the wall again and closed his eyes, feeling sleepy. Not that he hadn't slept more than twelve hours last night but a hot bath always did that to him.

House woke up feeling chilled from the water that had dipped below ninety-eight-point-six while he had evidentially fallen asleep. Then he noticed the murmuring sound of voices in his apartment. He shook off the lingering sleepy feelings and quickly decided to get himself out before someone came looking for him, worried about him. So he flicked the lever at the end of the tub with his foot and used his arms to lift himself out of the water and onto the side that suddenly felt more slippery than he had imagined it would. Shit. This was definitely not safe…or wise for anyone who preferred to keep his dignity intact, not to mention his skull.

He gripped the sides like he was holding on for his life – _and in a way he was_ - but still felt some lingering weakness in his right arm. He carefully turned so that his foot was soundly on the floor. He grabbed one of his crutches and hopped over to the toilet and sat down; questioning that a bath had been the easier option. But it clearly was and eventually he'd have to face the joy of managing a shower on one damn leg.

He sat there naked, dripping and shivering, wondering why in the hell he hadn't thought to bring clean clothes into the bathroom with him. He was left with somehow managing to secure a towel around his waist and hope it held while he shuffled his way to his room or putting his sweaty shirt and shorts back on. Maybe if he lost a towel mid-streak, a naked, old, graying, pruned up cripple that was screwing up his sister's life would finally scare Sam away. He could only hope. So it was decided; a towel it was.


	13. Chapter 13

Sam was slouched down in the chair, his hand lazily hanging over the edge, controlling the television. He was wearing knee-length well-worn tan shorts and a white t-shirt that used to say something about Stinky's Fish Bar. A stylishly tattered and faded purple Northwestern ball cap rested lightly on top of his head with his shaggy brown hair falling down around his ears and across his forehead.

Sometimes, especially Saturday afternoons, spending hard-earned money on cable seemed like a total waste. Maybe he was just getting weary of being uncomfortable in House's space. Making the decision of what to watch on another man's TV, especially House's, just felt like another domain to invade. You don't mess with a man's TV, nor do you mess with his chair. That's what had been engrained in him since childhood anyway.

He looked over at Cameron who was sitting forward on the couch sorting through her mail. She was barefoot and wearing navy blue jogging shorts with a thin white stripe down the side and a white v-neck t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail leaving her bangs to dangle across her forehead while her braced right leg was stretched out in front of her, tucked under the coffee table.

"I'm not in his chair or anything, am I?" he asked hesitantly.

"Don't worry about it," she said mindlessly, still concentrating on the white envelopes as she flipped through them one by one.

"I _am_ worried about it," he emphasized hopelessly, "does he sit here?"

"No," she answered, picking out a letter and carefully opening it.

He was trying hard not to piss House off anymore than he already had. He wasn't quite sure what he'd done other than rail him for not seeming to care about his sister. But that had been three weeks ago. Surely he wasn't still pissed at that. Anyway, if he cared about her like she seemed to think he did, he should have seen he was only looking out for her.

Sam still couldn't quite get what she saw in him. He was an old, grumpy smart-ass that couldn't be anymore different than her. The baffling part was he just so happened to be making her happier than he'd see her in a very long time.

Either he had her completely brainwashed or there was something about it that he just didn't get. Knowing his sister was a lot stronger than most people gave her credit for, he easily assumed the latter.

"Remind me again what it is you're doing with this guy?" he asked skeptically.

Cameron's shifted eyes told him 'get over it' as she unfolded the bill she'd pulled from the open envelope.

"I just don't get it," he mumbled as he turned his attention back to the TV.

"No one does – I'm used to it," she explained, her voice sounding bored with trying to defend her reasons.

Despite her insistence that it would never happen, Sam had just assumed she and Blake would eventually end up together. Everyone had. He still believed it would have happened had his cancer not changed everything. Blake and Sam always got along well and now seeing her with someone who hated him was just uncomfortable for lack of a better word. Sam wasn't used to people hating him, period.

"So what kind of bur does he have up his ass about me?" Sam prodded.

Cameron looked nervously towards House's closed bedroom door then turned back to Sam and answered quietly, "It's not you."

When she didn't elaborate immediately, Sam gave her his 'Uh hello? Then what is it?' look.

"House just doesn't wear his emotions on his sleeve," she answered vaguely.

"Oh…so he does have some other than the pissy ones I keep getting?" Sam asked mocking some surprise. After she rolled her eyes back at him, he added, "And why can't you guys call each other by your first names? He does realize he's calling you by _another_ man's last name…right?"

"Well, he didn't know that until you showed up," she sniped then added, "And it's not like I planned all this out, Sam," looking back at her bills, sounding discouraged by the conversation.

"Sorry Al…" he offered quietly, trying to remember what was really important. She seemed happy.

"It's okay," she looked at him again and gave him a tired smile, "Trust me, I'm used to it. But it would mean a lot to me if you two could get along. So please don't provoke him, alright?"

Sam just turned his attention back to the TV and started flipping the channels again, knowing finding anything interesting was a useless effort but there was nothing else to do.

Just as Sam was beginning to wonder if House was ever coming back out of his room, he heard the doorknob rattle and the door opened. House slowly limped into the hallway and then to the kitchen, concentrating on every step. House had come home from the hospital wearing his prosthetic but his jeans had hidden it from him. Now that he had shorts on, he couldn't stop staring at it.

It wasn't at all what he'd expected. For some reason he'd imagined some awkward and fake looking plastic thing that attempted to look real but failed miserably. He wasn't expecting Terminator-like awesomeness!

Cameron looked at him accusingly, and with no words exchanged between them she strongly encouraged him to become interested in the TV once again. But it was just so cool! How was he going to get a good look at that thing without totally pissing him off?

"_Damn Ali, that thing is sweet_!" he mouthed to her.

Cameron just grinned and looked back at the diminishing pile of mail and lifted her eyebrows, "I wouldn't stare if I were you," she quietly sing-songed in a cautionary and very quiet voice.

House walked into the living room with a beer and a bag of chips stuffed into one hand and his cane in the other, finding Cameron strangely smiling at a boring stack of bills and Sam frantically flipping through the channels.

"Something going on out here that I wasn't invited to?" House snipped accusingly.

Sam dared not move his eyes from the TV but he did at least stop on a program that looked halfway convincing.

Cameron just looked up at him and smiled suggestively, "Very nice," she growled.

House was confused only for a moment until he realized he'd removed about ten days worth of scruff from his face. He looked accusingly back at Sam then carefully sat down on the couch beside Cameron.

"Did you want to sit over here?" Sam asked nervously, turning his slouch into some resemblance of good posture.

"Do I look like Archie Bunker?" he grumped back, letting the TV distract him but he wasn't watching it.

_Damn it. Archie Bunker…Archie Bunker. Who the hell is Archie Bunker?_

Cameron snickered, "Trick question, Sam. Watch out," still preoccupied with her bills.

Sam chanced a nervous grin and asked, drawing out one cautious word at a time, "Okay…who is Archie Bunker?"

Cameron spoke up, "Never mind. _Way_ before your time," then she playfully looked at House out of the corner of her eye.

"Thanks…" he grumbled with zero sincerity, taking a drink of his beer then placing it between his legs before he buried his hand in the bag of chips.

Sam realized he was still controlling the TV and he quickly stood up and took one step towards House and handed the remote to him before sitting back down all in one motion.

"What's up with Nervous Nellie over here?" he turned to Cameron and asked like Sam wasn't in the room.

"He thinks you hate him," Cameron offered nonchalantly.

"I do," he admitted casually, crunching down on a chip.

Cameron just tilted her head to the side and gave him an impatient but amused look.

"Whatever," she said dismissing his answer and tossing the remaining letters on the coffee table.

Before Cameron leaned back on the couch, she moved over and ran her hand down his cheek and tried to kiss him. He backed away trying to act annoyed while whining that she was going to make him spill his beer _and_ crush his chips.

Cameron made a fist but before hitting him on his leg obviously thought better of it and just leaned back on the couch.

Cameron crossed her arms in front of her. "Sam wants to touch your leg," she said flatly looking at the TV.

"Ah shit, Ali," Sam whined under his breath.

Then House surprised the hell out of Sam saying, "Lookie but no touchie. You have thirty seconds…go!"

Sam wasted at least fifteen of his thirty trying to determine if House was joking or not then he finally turned himself squarely in House's direction and with his elbows on his knees stared intensely, inspecting the cyborg-like piece of machinery with his eyes only. The engineer in him wanted so badly to touch it and play with it and check it out completely.

House turned to look at Cameron who was already grinning at him. House just rolled is eyes at her, making her grin stretch wider.

"Five…four…three…two…one. Time's up! Show's over!" he exclaimed, "Go out, wreck a bike and get your very own," he announced like he was running a carnival side-show.

Sam just looked at him strangely before fully absorbing House's bizarre and morose sense of humor then pulled himself back together and sat back in the chair.

"Pretty sweet," Sam admitted hesitantly, desperately trying to be cool.

"You want one don't ya," House hitched his eyebrows at him suggestively, taking another swig of his beer.

"Not really," Sam chuckled.

"Yeah, me neither," he answered quietly with a sincerity that Sam wasn't expecting. House turned his eyes to the TV and dipping his hand back into the potato chip bag.

Sam suddenly saw just a flash of what Cameron had been trying to convince him was there. All of a sudden he got it.

Not that he totally understood it…but he got it. There just might be a person under that gruff exterior after all.

Sam watched House flip through the channels until he finally decided on The Tick. Then he contently put the remote on the coffee table and carefully stretched both legs out in front of him. Sam couldn't help but steal a quick glance at his leg every now and again.

The three of them quietly watched the cartoon and Sam had to laugh to himself that three adults, a minimum of at least twenty-five years worth of higher education was sitting in this room, watching a giant blue super-hero-wanna-be and his plump little side kick, Arthur.

When the show broke for a commercial, House crunched another chip then casually revealed, "The Tick makes your sister horny, did you know that?"

Sam's eyes snapped to him but House sat emotionless staring at the TV, acting as if he'd just opened some boring small talk to keep them busy until the show returned.

Cameron's face was becoming redder by the second and when she didn't look back at Sam he joined her quiet stare at the TV and tried not to laugh.

But the longer they sat in silence, the funnier Sam found it and he finally let out a laugh and then an embarrassing snort.

"Oh my god, Ali…_The Tick_?" he squealed loudly around another hearty laugh.

"Real nice, House," she mumbled at the TV, then added, "It's a long story, Sam," not even trying to talk over his laughter. She knew she'd passed the point of recovering any dignity so why try. She simply crossed her legs on the coffee table and folded her arms in front of her. Sam watched as House turned to look at his sister and grin devilishly even though she refused to look at him. Sam guessed this House guy might be okay.

The three of them sat watching TV and munching on junk food most of the evening. Over the course of a couple of hours, Sam watched his sister casually inch her way closer to House until she was leaned up against him with her hand lying lazily just above his prosthetic and House's arm draped around her shoulders. Every so often Cameron would steal a bite of whatever junk he happened to be eating at the time, but he didn't seem to mind.

He could sense House occasionally remembering they weren't alone and he'd remove his arm from around her but it soon migrated back again.

Sam woke up to the sound of the TV clicking off and House and Cameron groaning as they pulled themselves off the couch. They'd all sat around like a bunch of slugs all evening but Sam was pleased with the way it had turned out.

Evidentially his sister was too when she came over to him and leaned over, kissing him on the cheek whispering 'thank you' in his ear.

When Cameron straightened herself, Sam stood up beside her. He hugged her and returned 'He's okay' in her ear. Her optimistic eyes questioned him. He smiled at her then added, "I guess," rolling his eyes in unconvincing reluctance.

Cameron hugged him again saying, "I love you, Sam."

He returned her sentiment and looked over her shoulder finding House standing in the doorway of the kitchen quietly watching them. When Sam smiled at him he simply turned away and walked towards the bedroom.

Before disappearing around the door, he looked back over his shoulder and announced that he and his sister would _not_ be having sex tonight so he didn't have to sleep with his iPod if he didn't want to.

Sam snickered through his nose then looked at Cameron. "I was up hours before you guys…" he explained, trying to figure out how the hell House knew that.

Cameron chuckled nervously, slowly shaking her head then turning to follow House to his room, saying 'goodnight Sam' before closing the door.

"Night Ali…" he answered quietly to the empty hallway.

Sam grabbed the pillow and blanket from the chair in the corner of the room and tossed them on the couch. He dropped his ball cap on his duffel bag and fished out his iPod regardless of House's informing him he wouldn't need it.

He wasn't going to take any chances.

* * *

House woke up feeling something crawling in his ear. He tried swatting it away but a few seconds later the little vermin was crawling on him again. He swatted harder, lightly smacking at his ear then opened his eyes to find a smiling Cameron lying with her cheek on his pillow.

"That's annoying," he irritably informed her.

"I know."

He turned his head away from her and closed his eyes but could feel her gleeful stare burrowing a hole in the back of his head. He turned and glanced at her, disgusted, then looked away again.

"You know what else is annoying?" he grumped.

"What?"

"The fact that you can smile before noon, that's what," he mumbled toward the ceiling, still closing his eyes trying to hold on to whatever sleep was left.

"I know," she chuckled.

"You know what else I know?" she asked, in a voice that was way too chipper for this early in the morning. Well, maybe it wasn't early. He ignored her question and looked around at the clock, 9:07am. Yes, definitely too chipper for nine o'clock in the morning.

"What?" he droned out almost regretfully.

"It's Sunday," she answered, like this was something he didn't already know.

With that, House, no matter how hard he tried, couldn't stop the slight little grin from spreading across his lips. He couldn't say the grin was caused by the simple fact that yes, it was in fact a Sunday, or by the idea that Sam would finally be gone today. Even knowing that he would finally be alone with Cameron and could have his way with her, wasn't the cause. No, the thing that prompted his reaction was that Cameron seemed almost unable to contain herself over it.

"He'd better at least cook me breakfast before he leaves," he huffed out, intentionally ignoring her implications.

"You're a jerk," she shoved him in the ribs and turned over onto her back.

"I know," he said mocking her giddy tone of just moments ago.

Cameron climbed out of bed and without saying another word, ran her hands quickly through her hair and left the room. House finally allowed himself to grin now that she wouldn't be seeing it. There was no sense giving her the satisfaction, especially after waking him up in such an irritatingly cute way.

House quickly calculated in his mind; Sam had at least a twelve-hour drive ahead of him and it was already nine o'clock. He would be leaving soon. Of course this meant he likely wasn't getting a home cooked breakfast but what the hell. It was a price he was willing to pay.

* * *

Cameron gave one last wave to Sam as she stepped backwards through the door and unexpectedly into House. He reached forward with his left crutch and closed the door.

"Ten…" House drew out as he reached around the front of her, crutches tucked under his arms, he over-exaggerated checking his watch, "seventeen" He finished in her ear, but his arrogant confidence only existed in his words.

Cameron smiled as she reached up to stroke his face and turned to kiss him. Too bad he hadn't been able to get her to take him up on his little wager.

His tongue eagerly stroked hers as he ran his palms down her back. On their way up he tried lifting her shirt.

"Better slow down or we're not going to make it to your room," she laughed.

"Slow down?" he quietly whined then fumbled for the clasp on her bra.

"Sorry but _I've_ waited too long for this," she pulled away and joked, just waiting for his reaction.

"You?" He hitched his eyebrows causing her to grin.

"At least let me lock the door and turn off the phones? Do you want Wilson walking in?"

"Hhmm," he answered in mock thoughtfulness, "not Wilson…" He rolled his eyes to the ceiling then back to her.

Cameron cut him off before he could finish his thought and turned to lock the front door. House made his way to the bedroom while she limped to the kitchen, scrambling for their phones and his landline.

He tried unsuccessfully to shake off all his insecurities about disappointing her. It hadn't been difficult for him to run several scenarios over in his mind but the truth was he just didn't know what he would be capable of doing for Cameron with his new level of disability. But as unsure as he was, the expectancy rising in him wasn't giving any signs of yielding to his fears.

House hardly made it into the bedroom before Cameron was behind him lifting his shirt. Her heedless move while he was still on his crutches faintly encouraged him to go on like nothing was different. He turned around while pulling one arm through at a time then dragging it over his head on his own.

House reached for her shirt and pulled it up to her shoulders. Cameron lifted her arms, letting him take it the rest of the way off then put her hands on his sides when she felt him slightly fumble to balance himself.

He needed to sit down before he got too cocky and ended up helpless and lying on the floor; definite buzz kill. He took both crutches in his right hand and hopped until he was backed up against the mattress then he sat down. He dropped them to the floor, grabbed the side of the bed, and used his left heel to push them underneath.

When Cameron stepped close to him, they both became keenly aware of the scar that was now across her abdomen. House put his hands on her hips and quietly looked at it. Cameron ran her fingers down the length of it then covered the incision, quietly saying, "Don't..."

House removed her hand exposing it again, knowing he's the one that put it there, "Don't what?"

She took his face in her hands and guided his eyes toward hers.

"It was an accident," she insisted, silently pleaded with him to keep going.

House closed his eyes and Cameron stepped closer. She pressed her lips to his and slowly coaxed him into responding again, her tongue doing the stroking this time. His hands returned to her hips then gently moved up her back, sending chills up and down her spine.

Her breathing became ragged and shallow as he dropped her bra between them and started kissing her breasts, one then the other. The contrasting wet softness of his tongue with the dry roughness of his chin had Cameron twisting her fingers through his short, graying hair, perfectly content for him to stay there as long as he wanted.

She could feel him drawing this out; anticipation is such a double-edged sword. This had been too long in coming but she wanted more than a rushed and clumsy romp before they'd even made it to the bedroom.

Cameron took his rough cheeks in her hands again and leaned down to kiss him. His answer was slow but insistent as he dragged his hands down her hips and thighs, pulling her clothes with them. When they reached her knees she gave a little shake and they fell to the floor. She delicately stepped out of them and moved even closer to him, her knee brushing his increasingly harder groin causing him to growl quietly into her mouth.

"So what do you have in mind?" Cameron asked, completely unsure of her question.

"Hell if I know," he admitted hesitantly against her lips.

Cameron thought of positioning herself over him thinking that might be easier for him but she knew her knee wasn't ready for that. Before she could consider another option, he was pulling on her hips encouraging her onto the bed. She eagerly complied and shifted herself towards the middle. House used his right arm and his left leg to lift himself just high enough so he could remove his shorts, then he pulled himself up next to her.

He turned on his side to face her while Cameron lay on her back, looking at him, wanting desperately to tell him everything was going to be okay.

"Damn, you are beautiful," he said quietly but convincingly, suddenly making her be the one feeling completely self-conscious.

Cameron's sincerity captured his eyes as she opened her mouth to speak but he leaned in to kiss her before she had the chance. All for the better, she thought. She wanted to put his mind at ease and help him relax but she had no idea what combination of words could do that. She wanted to tell him she would be satisfied no matter what happened but she didn't want to risk putting a voice to his obvious insecurity.

He held himself up with his right arm, careful not to put too much pressure on her right side. But Cameron reached around his neck, gently pulling him toward her, silently telling him to not worry. He rested himself on his elbow instead, grazing her cheek with his fingers then he carefully tucked her hair behind her ear, his lips only occasionally touching hers.

His eyes still lacked the confidence he had eventually gained with her. They reminded her of those first few awkward encounters together as his hand moved from her face and walked down her body, briefly stopping to massage her breast, finally tracing a path to the place where she wanted it most.

She adjusted herself to accommodate him and he gave her a knowing and crooked smile; pleased at what he'd already done to her. God, his smile alone did things to her but when in cooperation with the rest of him, it sent a warm rush all through her body and suddenly he couldn't move fast enough for her. He kissed her gently again as he started moving his fingers inside her then leaned back only slightly to observe while he single-handedly made her whole body tense and begin to respond to him.

He watched, feeling his own reaction, and he waited for her. Only moments later, Cameron wrapped her arms tight around him and he leaned into her again. She buried her face in his shoulder as he kissed hers; her body jerking with even his slightest movement. He held her there as long as he thought he could then touched her once more, feeling her climax as her muscles tensed then he let her relax under him.

Cameron's grip on him weakened until her arms fell to her side. She struggled to catch the breath she needed with half of his body lying on top of hers. House slightly pulled away and watched the satisfaction radiate through her. When she opened her eyes, he hitched one eyebrow and grinned at her.

Her laugh was breathy and weak and her eyes asked for more.

"Look who doesn't want to wait now," he smirked playfully at her. He leaned down and kissed her again, stopping only long enough to coyly tell her to let him know when she was ready for another.

Hoping that his confidence in knowing he could give her more than that would eventually come, he propped himself up on his elbow facing her and closed his eyes. At least if it were dark in the room he could hide some of his doubt so he did what he could and pulled the sheet tangled around Cameron's legs up to their chests. He knew the move would be obvious to her but he tried not to care.

It wasn't long before Cameron was reaching for him – if only he could relax. He moved himself over her then gently lowered himself, putting most of his weight on his elbows and squaring his hips with hers. She opened herself up to him while she ran her nails lightly down his side then up his back, sending an intense tingling through his body. Combine that with the seductive little smile she flashed him and he could easily forget what he was so worried about.

He slid his hands under her shoulders then slowly moved all the way into her, causing Cameron's breath to hitch; mumbling a single unintelligible word. Her hands firmly on his hips, she held him there; her eyes closed, feeling every part of him. Seeing her reaction did everything for him.

Cameron's hands returned to his sides and House searched for a rhythm that was familiar to both of them. He tentatively watched her knowing she had to feel the difference now. He knew it had to be even more unbalanced than it ever was. He couldn't fight wondering if he could satisfy her at all now.

House curled his fingers over the tops of her shoulders using his upper body more than he'd ever had to and Cameron was pushing up to meet him. He was quickly tiring but he also knew he was almost there and wondered if she would get there at all. Cameron's hands moved back to his hips and when a groan escaped from the back of his throat she held him tightly as he released inside her. It was only a moment later when she joined him. The look on her face only added to the euphoria that was already spreading through his body.

House covered her when he gently relaxed on top of her; still trying to hold most of his weight himself. She just seemed so small under him. Cameron slowly ran her hands up and down his back while he regained his breath against her shoulder. House could feel her chest heaving underneath him and lifted himself to move off of her but she asked him to stay. So he only shifted down and out of her then softly returned his lips to the side of her neck.

House couldn't stop the images going through his mind of three naked Cameron's all thoughtfully pondering their score as they held over-sized black markers against big blank pieces of white poster-board.

"God, I missed you," she quietly breathed into his ear. He only smiled against her skin but didn't respond. Cameron always knew exactly what he needed.

* * *

House thought asses didn't come any more perfect than that as he watched Cameron walk away from him. When she disappeared into the kitchen he flipped on the guide channel to see what their options were. When she returned with a bowl of ice-cream he thought breasts didn't come any more perfect than that either as he eyed her, making her feel uncomfortable for being stark naked in his living room in the middle of the day.

He lifted the sheet that Cameron had brought with her from the bedroom and let her in beside him.

"So what's on?" she curled up next to him, carefully cradling the icy cold bowl in her hand.

"Mystic River," he said decisively.

"I hate that movie," she announced flatly.

"Well, I love it," he quickly followed, flipping to the proper channel.

"How about Shawshank Redemption?" she countered, trying to come to a compromise.

"That works," he agreed.

Cameron handed him the bowl as she carefully got up and searched for the DVD on the shelf. He grinned to himself between bites of ice cream thinking there was at least one benefit to him being the one that couldn't easily get up off the couch as he watched her locate the movie and put it in the DVD player.

When she turned to walk back, he had a cheeky little smile on his face as he pulled the spoon from his mouth.

"Get your own," she whined.

He deflated his shoulders and tilted his head to the side, waiting on her to realize what she'd just said. It would be _so_ much easier for her just to get it for him; that was obvious.

He watched her return to the kitchen and soon emerge with a second bowl, "Is there anything else I do can for you?" she asked sarcastically as if he thought she was some kind of servant. House shifted his eyes toward the ceiling and thought for a moment. Leaning forward to put his…well her bowl of ice cream down on the coffee table he answered, "Yes."

When she stepped close to him, he took her…his bowl of ice cream and sat it beside the other. He opened the sheet and slouched down in his seat, "Do you think your knee can handle this?" he asked tentatively, clearly surprising Cameron by his offer.

"Hell, I don't care if it can or not," she growled.

"If you don't want to…" he said seriously but his words were cut short when she carefully straddled his lap and he closed the sheet around her.

Cameron rested her arms on the back of the couch and started eagerly kissing him. He knew how much she always wanted to do this but it had been about the worst thing he could put his right leg through. He knew it was one of the first things he wanted to do for her once his leg, now minus the painful thigh muscle, felt up to it. He didn't know if it was ready but hell, with a naked Cameron on his lap kissing him, he didn't care either.

"Is this worth ruining two perfectly good bowls of ice cream for?" he asked deviously, both hands carefully on her back thinking for a moment just which side was sensitive for her.

"You mean _one_ perfectly good bowl of ice cream," she countered, giving him a quick and daring look before she turned and reached back for one of them.

House grabbed her arm, "Shit! What are you doing?" certain she was going to tumble off his lap and onto the floor. He tried hard to hide it but was sure he cringed when she sat back up, putting a little more pressure than he'd expected on his right thigh.

Cameron shot him a surprised and regretful look, "I'm so sorry!" she hesitantly breathed out through clenched teeth.

"Just scoot back up here, will ya?" he pleaded, using a playful voice to cover his discomfort. He put both hands on her backside and slid her closer to him.

Cameron tilted her head and looked sincerely at him, "I wasn't even thinking. Are you okay?"

"Yes. And good. I don't want you thinking about it," he said and resumed kissing her. Cameron had managed to act like nothing was different even though he knew she was keenly aware that it was. Now he thought for the first time, maybe it wasn't all an act. Maybe it wasn't the first thing she thought of when she looked at him.

Cameron mingled the fingers of her free hand with the hair on the back of his head, "I am so sorry about that," she repeated slowly into his mouth. She momentarily lost track of her other hand, holding the cold ceramic bowl. It grazed House's side and he quickly drew in a breath and winced.

"Now _that_ you _should_ be sorry about," he pulled away from her, "_that is cold!_"

"It's ice cream," she said in a flat obvious tone, head tilted and watching his lame pouty expression.

"Yes it is," he said as his pout melted into a grin and he hitched his eyebrows quickly at her. He dipped one finger into the creamy mint chocolate chip treat and brushed it on her lips then gently removed it with his tongue and kissed her.

"Sure your knee is up for this?" he questioned again.

Cameron just chuckled into his mouth and he knew he had his answer.

* * *

Just as Red found Andy's buried letter, Cameron looked down at House, lying on his side with his head resting on her lap, the sheet twisted around him like a messy toga.

"I think we should go look at bikes today," she suggested, absent mindedly playing with his ear and combing through his hair with her fingers.

"Yeah," he answered still watching the movie. His voice didn't seem distracted, just uncertain.

Cameron let the topic steep for the next twenty minutes while the movie ended. When it was over he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. Cameron rested her hand on his chest and watched him.

"I had Wilson deposit the insurance check for me last week." Even with his eyes closed he still had a thoughtful look on his face.

"Do you think your leg is ready?" she asked.

"If I can actually keep it on for more than a couple hours at a time, yeah," he answered a little frustrated, finally looking towards the ceiling.

"You will soon," she assured him, "it already looks so much better than it did Friday night."

"I was an idiot for doing that," he admitted, closing his eyes again.

When Cameron didn't answer he opened his eyes and finally looked at her. She let out a quiet chuckle and said, "I can't believe you actually admitted to that. I wouldn't call you an idiot…maybe more anxious than anything." She never knew House to be patient about anything. Why would this be any different?

Cameron rested her head on the back of the couch while House closed his eyes. They sat there quietly, each wondering what the other one really thought about getting back on a bike again. It just felt so good to be here alone with him, undisturbed by the rest of the world and all it's problems and chaos. Their last seven months had had enough problems and chaos of their own but Cameron clearly felt like this thing they had between them had moved forward in spite of it. She couldn't say for certain that was the outcome she would have predicted.

"I should take a shower," he huffed mostly to himself. "Or maybe a bath," he debated.

"A shower would be quicker," she reasoned, lifting her head back up and looking at him.

"For someone with two legs maybe," he said quietly, looking away from her.

"Maybe we can make some changes to make that easier for you," she said carefully. She knew taking a shower for him now was simply not safe without having one of those grab bars installed but she also knew the stigma that came with it. Grab bars were for old, helpless cripples. She'd been hoping at some point he'd make the suggestion himself but so far he hadn't. Which didn't surprise her at all.

"Maybe one of those removable shower heads," she suggested.

"Yeah, maybe," he said. Cameron read the tone of his voice saying he wasn't really wanting to talk about this now.

"Well do something," she joked, bumping up her knee and nudging his head, "I'm ready to see you with a twenty horsepower piece of steel between your legs again."

House looked up at her and snickered, "Twenty? You wanna see me on a moped? I'm thinking more like a hundred."

"Whatever," she grinned at him a little embarrassed for trying to act like she knew shit about bikes. She just knew he needed to get back on one.

* * *

House stared at the porcelain tub in front of him feeling defeated before he'd even gotten started. Cameron must have either worked her way around the shower bench they sent home with him or she'd been thoughtful enough to put it in the tub after she'd finished showering this morning. Either possibility sounded like her.

Using his crutches, he turned around and slowly lowered himself to the edge of the tub. He sat there for a moment, closing his eyes, frustrated, trying to coach himself into taking this one step at a time. He was convinced this was every bit as pathetic as it felt. He thought about lowering himself into the tub and to hell with the shower but he was excited about finally going to look at bikes. He didn't want to take the extra time. Although there were no guarantees this little event was going to be any quicker, certainly not any easier.

He grabbed the edge of the tub with his left hand and placed his other hand on the ledge opposite him and hoisted himself onto the shower bench. The lingering weakness in his right arm caused him to catch his hip on the plastic seat and almost lose his grip.

He took a deep breath and pulled the curtain shut. He ran his hands down his face, exasperated, feeling like nothing in his life would be easy again…ever. Not that many things could be described as easy before a month ago, but life pre-amputation was beginning to feel like a damn cakewalk. The only clearly positive thing so far had been that little event on the couch three hours ago. That wouldn't have happened a month ago - not without regretting it for hours afterwards. His fingers lingered on his cheeks, glad that he'd shaved and satisfied with how much Cameron had liked it.

House stared at the end of the tub, feeling like the faucet and knobs were yards away before he leaned forward, one hand on each side of the tub. He turned on the water and adjusted it to just the right temperature. He pulled the lever then sat back while the freezing cold water pounded him. His breath disappeared into fifteen seconds worth of profanity before the water finally started to warm. He lifted his head trying to avoid the spray of water from hitting him directly in the face, thinking that removable showerhead Cameron had suggested would get installed before he tried this again.

House heard the bathroom door creek then the crinkle of the shower curtain moving behind him. Cameron disappeared long enough to reach in and adjust the showerhead for him so it hit him squarely in the chest without having to strain his neck then she carefully climbed in behind him.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked presumptuously.

He just closed his eyes without answering her, his arms locked and stiff on each side of him, gripping the plastic bench.

He had no idea what she had in mind and as much as this sounded like a good idea in a perfect world, his world wasn't perfect, it wasn't even close.

Cameron reached around the curtain and grabbed the cup from the bucket beside the tub.

"Lean back," she said, gently coaxing his head towards her. He complied and looked up at her only briefly before closing his eyes. But the image of her with her hair pulled up in a disheveled collection stayed in his mind.

Cup by cup she poured water over his head and it streamed down his back and fell between them. He was still apprehensive about her being there but tried to believe she wouldn't do anything that could result in anymore broken bones between them. Or worse yet, a complete loss of pride.

She reached around and handed him the cup then picked up the bottle of shampoo sitting on the edge of the tub, squeezed some out, then returned it. Soon her hands were carefully massaging his head, releasing the smell of pineapple and coconut into the steamy air. He silently thanked her for not picking the girly stuff. Not that pineapple and coconut wasn't a little bit girly, but it was better than that flowery stuff that smelled wonderful as long as it was on her and not him. He tried to relax and feel the tingle radiate down his neck and shoulders.

After much longer than necessary, not that he was complaining, she stopped and reached her sudsy hand around him and reclaimed the cup. Once again, cupful by cupful she poured the warm clean water over his head, washing the soap onto the floor and it flowed down the tub and into the drain.

She repeatedly used one hand to smooth his wet hair then would follow with another cupful until all the soap was gone. She tossed the cup back into the bucket and reached her arms around his chest and kissed him on the cheek.

He wanted to say thank you for everything but he just left it at 'thank you' not feeling quite brave enough to add the 'everything' part. He enjoyed feeling her leaning on his shoulders and her cheek next to his. She lingered there long enough for him to begin to wonder what was going through her mind or what she was planning to do next.

"I love you," she whispered in his ear before carefully stepping out of the shower. House just sat there reeling from the weight of those words, his stomach in knots and his heart suddenly beating out of his chest. He heard her behind the curtain, quietly drying herself before she finally opened the door and left.

He knew this time would come eventually, but in no way did it diminish the effect those words had on him. In fact, he was surprised she'd waited so long. As much as he'd tried to push it down, he knew how he felt and in some obscure part of his mind that felt strangely more secure than the rest of him, he'd known how she felt for a long time now.

At least she hadn't chosen to say it across the dinner table in some dimly lit restaurant where he wouldn't be able to escape or ponder his response. Or anyplace where he wouldn't be able to do anything but avoid her eyes and completely disappoint her with his silence.

Suddenly, as much as he'd dreaded climbing into the shower, now the last thing he wanted to do was get out.


	14. Chapter 14

Cameron stood dripping water onto the floor of House's bathroom, wondering what in the hell she'd just done. Afraid she'd gone and screwed up what had otherwise been a perfect day of finally being alone with each other. Even with all the things they'd been through he'd still surprisingly managed to keep from putting up any new walls between them.

He'd even warmed up to Sam in his obnoxiously endearing House kind of way.

Of course Cameron had been careful not to give him any good reasons to retreat until now. Shit.

She opened the linen closet and grabbed a fluffy tan colored bath towel and patted herself down, stopping the pool of water that was now collecting on the floor from getting any bigger. She quickly surveyed the room, realizing House hadn't gotten one out for himself so she grabbed another and tossed it on the floor by the tub.

It already felt like an eternity since she'd finally admitted those three words to him. House's complete silence on the other side of the opaque curtain wasn't helping time move any quicker, not that she'd expected anything different.

She remembered saying those words to him once before when he was delirious and coming off of a drug-induced detox.

But then it had mostly been a joke and if House had remembered it, he'd never acknowledged it - like he would anyway. But this was no joke and House wasn't high.

Cameron turned towards the shower wrapping the towel around her and tucking the loose end into the top, holding it in position. She hugged herself and closed her eyes, taking a long slow breath intended to calm her down and stop herself from playing out a dozen scenarios all at once. Her insecurities were voicing their opinions about how, regardless of her selfish needs, she had just managed to put the best thing in her life in jeopardy. How she had in a mere two-second's time shifted the most exhilarating relationship she'd ever experienced into reverse. Her mind knew those thoughts weren't rational; it knew she had taken an inevitable step if this was to keep moving forward. However, her mind wasn't the one she was listening to at the moment, it was her heart, and it was racing so quickly that nothing was making sense.

Her strongest urge was to drop her towel and step back in the shower with him, not that she had any idea what she would do or say once she did. She even considered tossing a few post-script words over the thin piece of plastic separating them. Something that told him…hell, she didn't have a clue what she wanted to tell him other than to plead with him not to shut her out. But no combination of words sounded right. She opted instead for a quiet retreat.

* * *

House sat completely motionless, letting the water beat against his already pounding chest, until he heard the door open then gently close. As the tension followed her out of the room, his arms and shoulders relaxed and the top of his head fell into the tiny streams of water. The smell of pineapple and coconut lingered in the steam just like the confession she'd just made.

House had been in love before. He knew what it felt like. He also knew what it felt like when it was suddenly gone.

When the very person that had echoed those words back to him turned and betrayed his trust. He swore he'd never so easily say those words again. He'd also sworn he'd never trust so easily again. But he couldn't deny the recent waning in his need to protect himself from Cameron.

Assuming it and hearing it were two very different things, but this was no shocking revelation. She hadn't told him anything he hadn't already seen in her eyes practically every time she looked at him or felt in her touch even after waking her up in the middle of the night wanting her. Logically speaking, nothing about them had changed…yet. Now if only he could stay in this shower, and Cameron could do whatever she was doing outside of this room, forever, things would be okay. Whatever they had going here could remain in some state of suspended animation and go down in the history books as being a good thing. That's all he wanted. To be able to look back on his life and know that at least one thing had been good. But reality was about to come down like a wet blanket and write the epilogue, because it was his turn to step up to the plate.

They were down one run in the bottom of the ninth. There were two outs and Cameron had just loaded the bases. She couldn't have made it any easier on him – hell, she hadn't even looked him in the eye. All he had to do was exactly what she had just done, a solid grounder past the infield. A genuine 'I love you'. Nothing earth shattering. No homerun needed. It was that simple. So, would he just stand there afraid to swing while knowing if he didn't it would cost them everything? Or would he connect with the ball and at least tie the score giving them extra innings? It all depended on how badly he wanted the game.

House shook himself from the melodrama and tried to think rationally. He tried to calmly remind himself of what he knew about Cameron. She was kind and reasonable…yet honest and direct. She was patient and beautiful…strong and intelligent. She was funny…and sensual…and always managed to surprise him. She had a way of making him feel wanted and capable of meeting her needs. How that could be even remotely possible was beyond him, especially now. But just hours ago she had made him feel like there was at least one physical reality left in his life that wasn't going to suck now in his new condition. But he knew her physical needs were only a part of her. What scared the hell out of him were her emotional needs. Something he was sure he'd heard Wilson yammer on about at some point.

If he didn't know better, he'd swear she was a fool for putting herself in this position. She deserved so much more than to have _him_, the emotionally stunted ass with a shit batting average, be the one standing at the plate. At least, she deserved more than to have him standing still with his bat on his shoulder watching three pitches go by. Even if all he did was close his eyes and go with his gut. God, he was one lucky, undeserving son of a bitch. A rush that had been dormant for years flowed over his body as he noticed the water hitting him was losing its warmth.

He leaned forward holding himself up with one hand on the edge of the tub and turned the shower off. Sitting back, he pulled the curtain open, finding a fresh clean towel lying by the tub; one that he didn't recall putting there.

* * *

Cameron sat quietly on the edge of his bed, still wrapped in her damp towel. Her hair was pulled up and had gotten wet just on the ends. Hands gripping the edge of the mattress, she stared aimlessly out the window, listening to the water continues to run on the other side of the wall. She heard no movement, no change in the way it was falling on the floor of the tub. No indication that he had taken what she'd said in stride and gone on with his shower like nothing had changed. She wondered what he could be doing in there other than compiling at least twenty good reasons why none of this had been a good idea. Not that he would share any of them with her.

After a while, Cameron settled back on the middle of the bed, pillows still tossed about and sheets twisted in random patterns, and closed her eyes. Nothing could be accomplished by going off on wild tangents based on fearful assumptions. There was nothing she could do now but wait for him to come out and they could…well _she_ could deal with the aftermath.

She knew she shouldn't be concerned with the way he might react, but she was. She just hoped she hadn't done this too soon. She'd been confident of her feelings for months now and unless she was reading him completely wrong, she was fairly certain he felt the same way. They, especially him, had been though so much shit lately and so much change, she began to seriously doubt her timing.

The longer the water ran, the more her stomach began to churn. She decided to get up and busy herself by getting dressed, hoping they would still go out looking at bikes. She opted for a black t-shirt and faded blue jeans. She needed to assume that nothing had gone wrong, that nothing had changed.

She let her hair down and slowly brushed through it several times while looking in the mirror on top of his dresser, finally pulling it back in a silky ponytail. She tucked her shirt into her jeans and searched his room for her black leather belt, realizing this was the first time in weeks that she'd worn it. Both of them had been existing in sweat pants and shorts for the most part, and it felt good to be somewhat normal again.

Cameron searched through the two drawers that had been decided were hers as well as piles of his things mixed with her things in various places around the room, but she came up empty. So she pulled her shirt out of her jeans and decided that was going to have to do instead.

Grabbing her old running shoes and a pair of clean socks from the basket of laundry made her thoughts turn to Sam and how he was doing. She wondered how close he was to getting to his new home, and thought about how she missed him already. If things didn't go well in the next hour or so, she was going to miss him something terrible.

If they were going to test drive bikes, she would try to do without her brace today. As she walked out of his room towards the couch, she heard the water in the shower finally stop. Her heart jumped into her throat and she paused for just a second, closing her eyes, taking another deep breath and trying to prepare herself for whatever was about to happen.

* * *

House leaned over and grabbed the fresh towel Cameron had apparently left for him, glad that he didn't have to manage his way out of the shower, get up on his crutches and fumble across the room before he could stop the water from running down his face. He draped it over his head and tussled the water out of his hair.

He dried himself as well as he could while still sitting on the plastic bench, wondering what he was going to do once he opened the door and was faced with her again. What he needed to do seemed so simple on the surface but felt so complicated underneath.

Maybe she had forgotten all about what she'd said and when he walked out into the hallway it would be like nothing was different. Or maybe she'd realized it was a mistake and will want to deny it had even happened. Then again she could be standing right outside the door expecting prince charming to emerge and tell her everything she wanted to hear. Shit.

He managed to get himself up and on his crutches and by no small acrobatic feat secured the towel around his waist and put his hand on the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door, prepared to see her standing there wide-eyed and smiling expectantly at him. He let it out slowly when he realized that wasn't the case. He tried to calm himself down…tried to remind himself that Cameron knew him and that no matter what happened, she wouldn't intentionally make this hard on him. She knew what she'd gotten herself into. He hoped she knew anyway. He relished the days when the topic of having sex with his subordinate was the only thing that he had to avoid.

He tentatively stepped out of the bathroom and towards his room, wondering where she was. The apartment was quiet. No television, no music, no sounds of her shuffling around doing whatever. Where in the hell had she gone? Had she dropped a bomb like that and ran out? Surely not. But as he walked closer to the bedroom, he spotted her, sitting on the couch, dressed, hunched over in a pose that told him she was lacing up her shoes. It was then that he remembered. Before Cameron had managed to launch whatever this was into the serious dimension, they had planned to go look at bikes. He was immediately thankful for the distraction, anything but sitting around and talking about their feelings for the rest of the evening.

He tried to round the corner into his room and elbow the door closed as quietly as he could. He stood by the basket of clean clothes grabbing the articles he'd need and tossing them onto the bed; underwear, jeans, socks…a shirt that was definitely folded way too neatly. House deduced that Sam must have cleaved to his mother for a few too many years and, ever given the opportunity, he had a thing or two to teach him about being a real man.

He made his way to the bed and started piecing himself together, leg and all, something that was still taking a bit of coordination. Just as he shoved his left foot into his Chuck Taylor tennis shoe, Cameron opened the door and invited herself in. That shouldn't have felt like such a brash move considering what they'd spent the better part of the day doing, but he immediately felt uncomfortable and found himself trying to look at anything but her. He could see enough to tell she was leaned with her shoulder against the doorframe and her arms crossed. What he couldn't tell was if she had on her 'come here you sex-god' or her 'we need to talk until our ears bleed' face. He prayed for the former, but honestly expected the latter.

"I called the bike dealer," she broke the silence that had fallen over the entire apartment for the last thirty minutes.

"Yeah?" he answered busying himself with tying his shoe.

"They're open until six."

House craned his head upward and to the side to look at the clock on the bedside table, 4:40pm, plenty of time. He picked up his other shoe, opening it wide so he could easily slip his right foot into it then took his time lacing that one up as well, he needed anything he could get.

He hoisted himself up and carefully walked to his dresser, feeling Cameron's eyes on him every step of the way. He still wasn't sure what face she had on but her silence was making him very uneasy. If it was the sex-god face he was pretty sure she would have stopped him from getting dressed any further – this wasn't looking good.

He shuffled around for his watch and his wallet and even stopped in front of the mirror for a moment to attempt straightening his hair with nothing more than his fingers. She wasn't relenting. So he grabbed his cane and headed towards the door, concentrating studiously on his feet and the movement of his leg. Trying to convince her and himself that this was a very important part of his adjustment to his new mode of transportation and couldn't be bothered with a potentially emotional Cameron.

When he got to the door he expected her to move out into the hallway and let him through but of course she didn't. She didn't move at all. Her arms still crossed, still leaned up against the wall. Shit.

Cameron laughed lightly at his feeble attempts to avoid her, "Are you ever going to look at me again?" she asked, her voice sounded a little uncertain but forcibly lighthearted.

"Yeah," he muttered, showing impatience in his stance, still hoping to slip past her. Distractedly looking back at the dresser, hoping there was something else still lying there that he needed. Anything.

"When?" She prodded.

"When you get out of my way," he argued, turning back towards her but looking past her into the living room, immediately knowing that sounded like the response of an irrational six-year-old.

Cameron shifted her weight from one leg to both and stood upright again. Reading this as her surrender, he tried stepping by her again but she still didn't move. Rather she reached up and put her hands on his face, one palm flat on each cheek and held him there until he finally gave in and looked at her.

"Now was that so hard?" she grinned.

He scowled, resenting being treated like a child even if he was acting like one. He shifted his eyes over her shoulder then back again, finally finding the courage to hold on to them. He found them softer than he'd expected but not so weepy that she looked like an orphaned puppy.

She just held him there and looked at him for what felt like forever. God, she was going to say it again and she was going to look him in the eye when she did it this time.

But instead, she pulled his face toward hers and stretched herself upward, putting her lips gently on his. Her kiss was slow and content and encouraged him to feel comfortable enough to close his eyes and respond with the same ease.

Her hands eventually sliding down his cheeks then moving lazily to his shoulders, occasionally running her fingers across the nape of his neck. His hair still wet from the shower. His hands rested quietly on her hips after he'd left his cane against the doorframe.

Cameron finally pulled away but held onto his eyes, "Thank you for today," she said sincerely.

House just huffed lightly through his nose and cracked a crooked and weak grin. He hadn't been expecting that.

"What?" she asked, smiling and furrowing her brow.

"I swear you're the only girl that's ever thanked me for sex," he admitted.

"Unless, of course, she'd just made a quick hundred bucks," he flippantly tossed out knowing it wasn't appropriate.

"It wasn't just for the sex," she added thoughtfully, ignoring his attempt derail the serious mood between them. Her arms were still resting on his shoulders and her fingers clasped behind his neck.

"Okay," he punctuated, then shifted his eyes over her shoulder then back again.

Cameron's expression winced slightly as she stammered, "And about earlier…in the shower…"

Shit. House wanted to look away from her again, but couldn't. The language on her face had him intrigued. Her confidence of just seconds ago had fallen away.

"It wasn't meant to push you into anything," she paused and it was her turn to look away. He waited on her.

Suddenly the tables had turned and she was the uncomfortable one. Her eyes reached back up to his before she softly admitted, "I just wanted you to know."

He wanted to kiss her. No, he wanted to do more than just kiss her. But she just slid her hands down his chest until just her fingertips were touching him then turned away and walked into the living room.

"We better get going," she threw over her shoulder.

He just stood there for a moment. Still finding it hard to believe how easy she had just made that for him. House had been in love before, and he knew what it felt like. He also knew what it felt like when it suddenly wasn't there. He knew he needed to quickly decide how badly he wanted the game.

* * *

Cameron wandered around the lot while House walked inside to the main desk looking for a guy named Tim. House had insisted on this dealer and that particular salesman. Probably because he'd encouraged him to try the bike even with his right leg the way it had been. Cameron was sure he was in no mood to break in a new salesman and risk any carefully placed words or curious glances. Soon all of that would be a thing of the past but for now he was still slow and unsteady and his cane was a dead giveaway.

House finally made his way back over to her and stood by as she leaned down and read the details on a sweet looking dark blue bike she'd spotted. Not that she had any idea what any of the words and numbers meant.

"I assume you know what all this stuff means huh?" she said, still craned over but looking up at him.

"Uh huh," he mumbled distractedly while scanning the lot. She saw his lips turn up slightly at the corners before taking off, passing a dozen or so other bikes. Cameron followed.

"Oh yeah," he said, standing back and eyeing a black one that said Vmax on the side.

"It's pretty," she observed, laughing and shrugging her shoulders, acknowledging that she really had nothing to add here.

"It's…_pretty_?" he eyed her, disappointed with her choice of words.

"You're calling a bike that does zero to one hundred in no time flat _pretty_? This thing is a liquid-cooled, dual overhead Cam V4," House rubbed his hand down the tank on to the seat.

"Is that good?" Cameron asked, not having a clue what a Cam V4 was. He looked at her with a tilted head and sagged shoulders, frustrated that she wasn't finding this nearly as exciting as he was.

"It's got V-Boost," he insisted.

"Is that like a button?"

House rolled his eyes, "It's a valve system that opens when I hit about…" Cameron could feel the blank stare on her face.

"Never mind. You're right, it's pretty," he finally said to appease her.

She watched House admire the curves and lines of the motorcycle. All she knew was it looked a bit bigger than his old bike. It was almost all black and looked very intimidating; like something right out of a Mad Max movie.

"You know this thing has a bigger engine than that wussy little girlie car you drive."

"…which is faster than that oil-chugging thing you call a car," Cameron quickly tacked right onto the end of his insult.

Cameron hated that thing. It was cold in the winter, hot in the summer and the passenger side door could only be opened from the outside. Which would be fine if House ever acted like a gentleman. But opening it from the inside required a meticulously shaped wire hanger being snaked down a hole in the door and skillfully fumbling for the release lever. Something Cameron never quite got the hang of, which meant most times, she had to climb out through the driver's side being careful to maneuver over the console. Of course House only liked it because of the means by which he'd obtained it but she had to admit he looked kind of cute driving it, in a totally dorky kind of way.

"Well I _am_ a girl if you haven't noticed." She put on a naughty little grin but it was wasted on him, at the moment he was only interested in lusting over the new toy in front of him.

A younger man, Cameron figured he must be about her age, with a solid build and dark hair interrupted House's drooling, "Hey," reaching his hand out in a friendly and enthusiastic greeting, "Dr House, right?"

House loosely shifted his cane to his left hand and shook the salesman's with his right, still focusing most of his attention on the bike in front of him.

"You like that one, do ya?" Tim turned his attention to it as well.

The salesman took no time in looking at Cameron and smiling, "Hi…Tim," he offered, taking one step forward and reaching out to shake her hand.

"Allison…hi," she offered back, shaking his hand.

With this, House quickly turned to her then cut his eyes to the salesman then back to the bike.

"Wanna take it for a spin?" Tim offered, revealing that he had the key already in his hand.

Staring at the bike, House took a deep breath and Cameron stepped close to him, taking his hand in both of hers, "You want to drive it by yourself first? Then you can come back and take me for a ride?" she said quietly, gently leaning into him.

He'd surprised her by not seeming leery about getting back on a bike again and she just assumed he'd been doing a very good job at hiding it. Now it appeared that was the case.

Tim nervously rattled the key in his hand and said, "You know. We're a pretty tight community around here. Something doesn't happen within fifty miles of here without us hearing about it."

Tim stopped for a second and House looked over at him, "I'm glad you're alright, man."

There was a heavy silence then Tim managed to make the air around them even heavier, "You too," he paused and Cameron turned to look at him, "Were you the girl…?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…gimme the keys," House harshly interrupted, letting go of Cameron's hand and waggling it in front of Tim.

Ignoring Tim's question, Cameron gently took hold of House's arm then nudged him with her elbow, "Let's see what this baby can do."

When he turned to her she looked up at him knowing there was no way that sounded as cool as she wanted it to and she gave him an embarrassed look.

House just looked back to the bike and nodded then Tim handed over the key and left, soon returning with two black helmets. Cameron took one, tucking it under her arm and House took the other.

* * *

He handed her his cane and put on the helmet, taking the few short steps to the black beast. He reached under his thigh and lifted the leg over the seat, the same way he'd done hundreds of times on his Honda. First thing he noticed was the lower seat height, which made it much easier for him to mount the bike.

Once he was seated, his mind started thinking about the logistics of how all this was going to work. First he needed to see how difficult it would be to position his right foot on the peg. With the kickstand still down, House raised his leg, using the remaining muscle in his thigh to lift the prosthetic up, he slowly lifted his foot, watching as he gently lowered it onto the foot peg.

Pushing the starter button, House felt the bike come alive, rumbling and vibrating under him, power just waiting to be unleashed.

Feeling a little more confident, House lowered his foot back to the ground and prepared to flip up the kickstand. He balanced the bike under him, feeling a comfortable center of gravity, then quickly flicked the stand up with his left heel then gently leaned the bike slightly to the left again, allowing his sound leg to take the additional weight.

He prepared himself to repeat the process- balance bike, right leg down, left leg pushing down on the shift lever in one quick motion while holding in the clutch with his left hand.

In one swift motion, House completed the shift into first gear easier than he expected then settled his left foot back on the ground. Now he just had to get his right foot back on the peg. He once again lifted his leg and the knee bent automatically as he tried to watch the position of his foot. Making small adjustments by lifting and moving his thigh, he finally managed to get it placed firmly on the footrest. Last thing he wanted to do was have to reach down with his right hand to adjust his leg. Mission accomplished. Now he was ready.

Slowly he let out the clutch and twisted the accelerator as he turned onto the street and headed out of the dealer's lot.

It really only felt strange for a minute or two before House was comfortable on a bike again. Adjusting to his new leg would take a little time though. Not being able to feel the peg under his new foot made him keep glancing down to make certain it wasn't about to slip off.

He had only driven once in more than four weeks and even then it was such a different feeling from driving that trash heap Chrysler. The engine was so responsive to his touch and the machine moved under him with even his slightest shift in weight. His thoughts moved to Cameron and how she had responded while underneath him then he forced his thoughts back onto the road and the traffic around him. But, he couldn't deny the parallels between riding a bike and sex with Cameron.

Once he hit his first deserted straight away, he twisted back on the throttle and had the speedometer kissing three digits well before he expected. House got lost in the feel, the control. Control that had been pulled out from under every part of his life it seemed.

Nothing could keep up with him now, not even his insecurities. The faster he went, the further he left everything behind. This was the pinnacle of complete mobility – here he wasn't a cripple. It was only then that he fully realized how much he'd missed this.

But the driving desire to leave everything behind felt different now. It felt muted, tamed. It was still there but he wasn't hungry for it like he once was. Maybe it was possible that for the first time since he could remember, he wasn't trying to run away from everything in his life. He couldn't quite place it, but he was starting to feel things changing. It should have scared the hell out of him, but it hadn't yet.

He lost complete track of time but when he started seeing signs for Somerville he knew he needed to turn back before the dealer closed and Cameron was left stranded with…Tim. Someone who, he noted earlier, possessed an integer dangerously close to Cameron's.

He pulled into the lot finding them outside, one of Cameron's arms motioning wildly while the other was propped on his cane. Tim was lounging back on the seat of a bike facing her with his ankles crossed, tilting his head back and laughing. He pulled up next to them and turned off the engine. He pulled off his helmet and placed it on the tank.

Tim stood up and barely opened his mouth before House interrupted him.

"I write you a check and you throw in the helmets?"

Tim stammered for a moment, "Uh…you got it!"

House looked to Cameron, finding her smiling widely at him before he turned to Tim and nodded. Tim grinned and turned towards the showroom, House followed closely behind.

* * *

Cameron went to her car and grabbed anything too valuable to leave in case they'd misjudged the neighborhood. She tossed anything else that she'd rather not get lifted into her trunk. She waited patiently, leaning on his new bike and running her fingers over various parts of it. It was pretty regardless of whether House cringed at her using that word or not.

It couldn't have taken him more than ten minutes to settle things. He came walking out of the showroom with a face that was about to crack under the pressure of suppressing a huge smile. Heaven forbid she, or anyone else, see him look genuinely happy about anything. But he was – Cameron could see it, and it gave her chills to see him like that.

Everyone deserves a little happiness once in a while, even Greg House.

Cameron stood up and stepped away from the bike, "All set?" she asked, motioning to him to give her his cane.

He screwed his face up slightly at her and she answered, "You won't need it."

House handed it over then climbed back on the bike while Cameron took his cane over to her car. She picked up the helmet she'd left on the ground and strapped it on and climbed on behind him just has he started the engine. This was so much more comfortable than his other bike. It was clearly made to have a passenger. She flipped her visor down, wrapped her arms tight and low around his waist and settled into him – nice and close.

He took off gingerly and made a left-hand turn out of the lot. Cameron had no idea where he was headed but she really didn't care. They could ride for the rest of the evening as far as she was concerned. She had missed this maybe as much as he had.

They broke the city limits and Cameron could feel House holding back. From his reaction and just the mere bad-ass look of it, she assumed it could run circles around his old bike. She wondered if he'd been so careful even without her on the back. As much as she wanted to feel him open it up, she liked that he was being cautious. House was never cautious about anything and the thought of him being careful for her sake was, well…sweet.

She lifted his shirt just enough to slide her hand underneath and rest it on his stomach. Her grip tightened as she felt him kick the throttle and speed up just a little. She smiled and shifted closer into him. Not that she could get any closer but it still felt nice.

They covered rural New Jersey until it was dusk when House pulled into a little Chinese joint on the outskirts of Princeton. He pulled up front and turned off the engine, both taking off their helmets.

Cameron looked at him, a little puzzled while he turned back to her and said, "Do you realize we haven't eaten anything today?" Then he grinned and finished, "'cept a little ice cream."

She just answered with a sly little grin and a quick hitch of her eyebrows, "Let's order in."


	15. Chapter 15

Even after covering practically all of rural New Jersey then deciding not to stop for dinner, House still drove for at least another hour. Far be it for Cameron to complain. His new bike was fantastic…and comfortable. She never grew tired of holding on to him while she occupied her thoughts with ideas of just what she wanted to do once House decided the ride was over. When they finally arrived at his place, at least Cameron had the patience to let him step fully into the apartment before she shut the door and pinned him against it, one hand behind his neck and the other one groping for his belt.

"I thought you were hungry?" he managed between Cameron's kisses.

"I am," she growled and giggled into his mouth. She gently caught his bottom lip between her teeth then let it go as she pulled back to catch his eyes, hoping to see him following her playful mood. But that wasn't what she saw. His eyes were distant, something was clearly churning in that mind of his.

She kissed him again, slower this time, moving her hand from his belt, up his taught stomach to finally rest it flat on his chest. In all their time together, House had never hesitated to jump right in when Cameron's intentions were so clear.

She pulled her other hand from the back of his neck to the side of his face, stroking his cheek with her thumb, waiting to feel a change in his response. She finally felt his hand rest on her hip and slowly move up and down her side. His kiss was warm and gentle, but warm and gentle told Cameron something else was definitely going on.

"Maybe we better get our order in," she suggested before kissing him one more time. She slowly stepped away wanting him to pull her back, hoping she was just reading him wrong, but no.

She slid her hands into the pockets of her jeans and watched him take one step towards her, give her one last soft kiss then pull his cell phone out of his pocket. He hit a button and put it to his ear while he tossed a handful of papers and brochures onto the coffee table.

"Yeah. House. Two twenty one B…yeah, right," he said impatiently. "Gimme a number four and a number twelve," he turned to Cameron and lifted his eyebrows.

Cameron felt a little dazed but looked thoughtfully at him and smiled, "Those double pan-fried noodles."

"…and a number seven with…," House looked back to Cameron.

"Shrimp."

"Shrimp," he repeated.

House waited for the person on the other end to repeat his order then he flipped his phone closed and tucked it back into the pocket of his jeans. Cameron tried not to think too hard about this, but she was afraid that the bike shopping had been nothing more than a temporary detour away from the awkwardness she'd caused earlier.

"So…pretty sweet bike," Cameron offered, still standing by the door.

House gave her a weak grin, "You like it huh?"

"Yeah, especially the turbo part."

"Turbo part? You mean the V-Boost?"

"Yeah."

"It never kicked in once," he laughed.

"Oh," Cameron grinned knowingly at him then turned to walk down the hall. The dark mood that felt like it was lurking just outside waiting for an invitation kept her from mentioning his obvious caution during their ride.

Cameron pulled her hair back into a ponytail and was rinsing her face with some warm water, thinking she'd also pass on her observation about how well he did on the bike with his new leg. God, she hated this. Would they ever get to a place where either of them could speak freely and not worry about the consequences?

Cameron walked back into the living room, patting her face dry.

"It felt good," Cameron said and smiled, trying to keep their conversation from shutting down.

"It did," House nodded thoughtfully before sitting on the end of the couch, paying special attention to the movement of his leg.

"I think we should get matching jackets," she said and sat facing him, tucking her left leg under her.

House's eyes widened skeptically as he expressly avoided looking at her and slowly reached for the owner's manual lying on the coffee table. He groaned when he had to reach a little further for his glasses.

"You know, like Danny and Olivia in Grease," Cameron mocked her own enthusiasm.

"You mean Danny and San…" he stopped before he completely incriminated himself and flashed her his 'I am not amused' look. "And they didn't have matching jackets," he finally gave in and added.

Cameron laughed and swatted him with her towel before shoving herself up off the couch, "I know that. What do you think I am, some kind of dork?"

"Yes," he offered with a one-sided grin looking over his glasses as Cameron walked away feeling awkward because that was supposed to be funny. Even though he'd smiled, whatever was really going on didn't feel funny to her.

She was concerned that maybe the issue hadn't been closed with just a few words and a kiss. When will she ever learn that nothing was ever that easy with House? Maybe she just hoped that after all they'd been through, especially over the past month that she could simply tell him how she felt without…well, this happening.

She had meant what she said; the sentiment had come with no strings attached, no hidden agenda, no pressure. But she couldn't ignore a small part of her that did want to hear him say it. She was about as confident as she could be in the way he felt. She sensed it in the indescribable way he made her feel.

Something that didn't come from inside her, something that clearly came from _him_ in even the smallest things that he did. Well…mostly in the smallest things he did. She wanted that to be enough for her.

Cameron stood behind the couch watching him randomly thumb through the manual, stopping on the page warning about proper tire inflation levels. It was obvious to her that House was off in his mind somewhere. She wondered, if she could read his thoughts, would it explain why they were out here in the living room delicately dancing around each other instead of in his room not so delicately dancing _with_ each other. She chastised herself for feeling so insecure, god, and so petty. Today had been incredible.

She took a deep breath and tried to keep from jumping to any irrational conclusions. She had, after all, dropped the heavy on him. She needed to give him some time to work it out and she'd only worry about dealing with whatever came out in the end. She repeated the plan to herself once again slowly and persuasively. But she wasn't sure how long she could wait.

Cameron sat back down with a stack of mail in her hand. One by one, she pulled the bills out of the open envelopes, wrote the check and attached a stamp, trying to keep her mind occupied with other things.

She glanced over at him and had to grin to herself when she remembered the first time she'd seen House using his reading glasses. He'd been bitching about everyone's handwriting being illegible but of course no one but her was willing to suggest it just might not be the handwriting. The first day she caught him using them, she tried to be professional but was unable to keep herself from climbing him right there in his office chair before he'd had the chance to drag them off of his face. He should have looked like a total nerd in them but damn…it worked.

Cameron turned back to the remaining bills and assured herself that whatever this was, it was going to work itself out.

* * *

House turned the page of the book he was holding. He'd believed what Cameron had said. He had yet to feel like she expected anything that he couldn't easily give. Even though he'd watched for it to sneak its way in once their newness had worn off, it hadn't happened.

However, he knew _expecting_ something and _wanting_ something were two very different things. He glanced over at her and wondered about all the things she wanted but likely hadn't expected simply because he was…him.

He had no good reasons for keeping his true feelings from her. The problem was, well, the first problem was obvious – he was a coward. But having said that, no…basically _that_ was the problem and it had his insides feeling like he was being tied and quartered.

The bike had been a suitable escape while it lasted and he'd stalled on it for as long as he thought he could. Of course the ride felt good so he doubted Cameron had gotten suspicious until they got home and he was too pre-occupied with his damn hang-ups to just let her have her way with him - idiot. He knew how irrational all of this was, but that didn't seem to matter.

Cameron put down her things and thought for a moment before she turned her body to face him.

"What's wrong, House?" she asked quietly but her voice was unsure. His gut wrenched just a little more at hearing the uncertainty in her words. Why was this so damn hard?

He glanced at his watch, "The fact that I called thirty minutes ago and our food still isn't here." He caught her eyes only for an instant before putting them back on the pages of his book, "Short Round isn't getting any tip tonight," he finished weakly, knowing his attempt to dodge her real question had failed miserably.

Cameron's eyes weren't moving from his, he connected with her briefly then turned back to his book, "Nothing is wrong, Cameron," he answered as sincerely as he could. But he stopped short of telling her just how _right_ everything was. He always stopped short of telling her what he knew she wanted to hear.

Cameron had turned back to the things in front of her, stacking the unfinished bills into a pile to be dealt with later, when the doorbell finally rang. She put her hands on the couch on either side of her, preparing to lift herself up when House reached over and stopped her by putting his hand on her arm.

"I got it," he said. He pulled off his glasses and put them and the book back down on the coffee table then carefully lifted himself up and limped to the door. He handed the kid a twenty in exchange for the white paper sack then shut the door before he could get any change. The distinct smell of greasy Chinese food filled the apartment as he carried the bag into the kitchen, pulled two plates out of the cupboard and placed the bag on top. On his way back to the living room he opened the fridge and started to grab two beers when he asked, "What are you drinking?"

"Diet Coke," she answered.

He grabbed a Diet Coke instead and put it on the plates then picked up his beer and let the door shut on it's own. It briefly struck him that he had two free hands without the payoff being bitching pain in his right thigh.

"Oohh, plates. What's the occasion?" Cameron gave a faint chuckle. House gave her a look clearly communicating that she was pushing her luck as she started unpacking the warm white cardboard boxes from the paper sack. He'd considering offering to let her pick out a movie but now she'd ruined her chance.

House opened her soda and sat it in front of her then opened his beer. He didn't turn to acknowledge the curious look she was giving him.

"Pursuit of Happyness is on this month. Wanna watch it?" Cameron asked, shaking her box of noodles out onto her plate.

"If you want," he answered around a piece of beef he'd fished out of his box with his fingers, "Sorry we never got to the theater to see that one."

"Eh," Cameron shrugged, "It's not one of those 'gotta see it on the big screen' kinda movies."

"You want some of this?" he offered, holding the box in front of her.

"What is it?" she asked, peering in.

"Schezwuan beef."

"Oh, too spicy," she wrinkled up her nose.

"Garlic chicken?" he asked, indicating towards the box still sitting on the table.

"No, thanks," Cameron smiled and looked at him. He knew what he'd see on her face if he turned to her so why bother? It would be much less awkward if he could just ignore it. Cameron finally grabbed the remote and ordered the movie.

She didn't make it even a third of the way through her meal before she put her plate back down on the coffee table. She took one last sip of her drink then leaned back on the couch again, crossing her arms in front of her. House polished off one box and most of the second before realizing that might have not been the smartest thing to do at ten o'clock at night.

Cameron paused the movie announcing she was going to put her pajamas on then she left the room. House took the chance to pick up the plates and collect their trash and stack it on the kitchen counter.

He was already on the end of the couch before Cameron returned in one of his old t-shirts and seemingly nothing underneath. Of course it was hard to tell since his shirts were a good three sizes too big for her, but seeing her in them did things to him. This was no secret to either of them.

She crawled onto the couch and took up the length of it, lying on her side and resting her head on his thigh – not that he could feel it under the plastic casing.

"That can't be comfortable," he insisted, tugging on the pillow that was behind him.

"It's fine."

House lifted his hip and pulled the pillow out anyway, handing it to her. She took it but only wrapped her arms around it and hugged it to her chest.

He restarted the movie, wishing he'd gone and put something more comfortable on too but he wasn't going to move her now. He was happy to have her right where she was. He looked at her lying there, thankful that his inadequacies never seemed to scare her off.

He lifted the back of her shirt just far enough to reveal her delicate white cotton panties. He slid his hand underneath her shirt and gently rubbed up and down her side. His fingers moving almost to her shoulder blade and down to her hip then back again, occasionally grazing her with his fingernails. He stopped only long enough to pull the sheet down off the back of the couch and messily drape it over her. Then he returned his hand to her side. Her skin was soft and smooth and warmed a little more with each pass.

They silently watched the movie and House's hand eventually found itself resting idly on her side.

Cameron pulled her hand out from under her, placed it on his thigh and rested her cheek on it.

"Maybe I should take this off," he offered, reaching for his right leg.

"That would mean you would have to get up and I would have to move," she mumbled, still watching the movie.

"You're such a lazy ass," House said seriously.

"I thought you liked my ass."

"I didn't say that. I just said it was lazy."

"Oh."

Cameron shifted from her side to her stomach, putting the pillow under her chest and hugging it again then resting her head back on his thigh. She shuffled around trying to find what was comfortable while she grabbed her shirt on either side and tugged at it, tucking it under her arms.

House took the hint and started rubbing her entire back, wishing he had even a small portion of the balls that Will Smith's character had. But maybe courage was less about him and more about how badly he wanted what he was after. Or, as in House's case, how badly he wanted to keep what he already had, or how much he appreciated what he damn near had lost. House looked down at her and tried just for a moment to imagine where he would be if his cocky mistake had killed her, but he couldn't.

"So how many of those bills are because you keep your place?" House forced out, pushing against a certain level of anxiety. He felt the rise and fall of her body stop just for an instant then continue again. He kept his hand moving up and down her back hoping she wouldn't turn to look at him. His nerve only had one thread left as it was and he was finding it hard to breathe while he waited for her answer.

"A few of them," she finally said.

He nervously tapped the fingers of his left hand on the side of his leg, closed his eyes and finally said, "What would you think about just getting rid of it?"

"And moving here?" Cameron clarified.

"Well…no…" he drew out and scoffed, "Wilson seems kinda lonely these days."

He felt Cameron's body rumble under his moving hand as she snickered, then things turned quiet between them while the movie continued to play.

"I'd like that," she finally answered seriously. House hadn't doubted what her answer would be, but hearing it prompted a sense of relief to radiate through his body. It wasn't so much that she'd answered, but that he'd finally found the nerve to ask.

"Living with Wilson? He's messy and can't cook worth shit."

Cameron chuckled again and pulled her arm out from under her and hit House on the leg right about where his shin should be.

"Like that hurt," he taunted her.

"You're such a smart ass."

"I thought you liked my ass," House mocked her earlier comment.

"I do," Cameron insisted as she slid her hand directly under said ass and gave it a good squeeze.

"Fine. Tomorrow you call Wilson and I'll call my landlord," Cameron said in a patronizing tone.

House took a deep breath as discreetly as he could. He wondered if he would ever learn to stop agonizing over things that involved Cameron. Once again she'd managed to make what felt like a monumental event feel as easy as deciding which movie to watch.

The room fell silent except for the TV and the soft whisper of House's rough hand moving mindlessly up and down Cameron's back. He was trying to focus back on the movie and piece together what they'd missed when she cut into the quiet, "Oh to hell with this."

In no less than three rather impressive moves, she was straddling his lap with her arms on his shoulders and her hands clasped behind his neck. Holding his eyes squarely arm's length in front of hers.

Suddenly, he had no choice but to concede to her.

"I don't care if this makes you uncomfortable," she paused for a moment, "and I don't mean your leg," Cameron started rambling and House just watched her in amusement yet half fretting over whatever she was about to do. Either way, a grin that he couldn't control was creeping across his face.

"Oh shit," her eyes widened, "I do care about your leg…does this hurt?" Cameron turned a quarter turn looking down at his right knee.

"No," he chuckled out nervously.

"Anyway," she continued, turning back to him, "you're just gonna have to get over yourself because I can't help it anymore," she rambled on some more.

She growled out her uncontrollable frustration, but her smile was completely giving her up. She leaned in and kissed him hard. Then wrapped her arms all the way around his neck and hugged him tight, her cheek pressed up against his.

"Oh my god, Cameron," he laughed quietly and gasped from shock, practically getting the breath squeezed out of him. He always suspected she was capable of it but had never quite seen her act this way.

"I am in love with every part of you," she said clearly and slowly into his ear.

"And I'm sure I have Chinese breath," she followed with a whisper.

House finally wrapped his arms tight around her and held her close to him.

"Me too," he said so quietly he's not certain she could hear. He closed his eyes feeling his heart pounding inside his chest.

Cameron giggled and her body shook against his before straightening up and grabbing his eyes again, "You have Chinese breath?" She tilted her head and gave him a questioning look.

House knew she had heard his response and god, he was thankful for the comic relief and took full advantage of it. But he knew his face wasn't hiding anything.

"I was kinda hoping the garlic chicken would keep you away…guess not," he finished with a hitch of his eyebrows.

"Nope, not even the Schezwuan beef," Cameron's voice took a serious turn, her eyes holding onto his while she leaned in and kissed him yet again. Her tongue wanted entrance so he closed his eyes and quickly welcomed it. House firmly ran both hands up her back and on his way down, Cameron broke their kiss and put her cheek next to his again. He wrapped his arms tight around her and a comfortable silence came between them.

"I know you do," Cameron quietly acknowledged him.

House wanted to hold on to this for as long as he could and he was fairly certain Cameron wouldn't mind. He fumbled for the remote, paused the movie then returned to holding her properly again.

* * *

There wasn't one emotion running through Cameron that she could hold on to long enough to identify. All she knew was that it felt good to finally let it all go, and the fact that House had responded the way he did launched her to a place she's quite certain she'd never been to before.

Cameron took a slow deep breath and felt House's hand leave her just long enough to stop the movie.

She kissed him softly on the neck then rested her head on his shoulder, settling in for as long as he wanted to stay like this. She could still feel her pulse thumping and racing and thought surely House could feel it too. She felt a little foolish for reacting this way, but hell, she didn't care.

"You're gonna owe me four bucks if I don't get to finish this movie," House finally broke their silence.

She could feel his chest rumble against hers.

"Okay."

Cameron felt a little humph under her, "Seriously, you'll owe me four bucks and I won't get to find out if this guy finds his happiness with a 'y'."

"He does," Cameron mumbled.

"Now you've ruined it," he grumbled as he tried to peel Cameron off of him.

"It's a true story, House. Everybody knows how it ends," she tilted her head and looked at him while he managed to get her off of him far enough to look at her. She surprised even herself by being able to erase the grin from her face and give him a convincing annoyed look.

"Yeah, well, I'm paying for it so I wanna see it," House said definitively as he picked up the remote and restarted the movie.

Cameron reluctantly climbed off of him careful to not put too much direct pressure on his leg or on hers. Her leg was stiff and she was afraid she'd pay for it at PT in the morning.

"What time do we have to be at the hospital tomorrow?" she asked as she settled down next to him, lifting his arm and putting it around her shoulders then wrapping both of hers around him.

"When we get there," he mumbled impatiently, letting her know she was now interrupting his precious movie. She'd asked him countless times to see it at the theater but he always had something else he wanted to do more. Then watching it tonight had even been her idea, so Cameron decided she might as well get back into it as well.

"How did he finally get into that program?" Cameron asked.

"Sshh, Rubik's Cube," was his short answer.

Cameron figured House was probably one of those geeks in high school that had managed to figure out the Rubik's Cube then wondered if he might have even been in med school by the time it had come out. Cameron only remembered there being an old busted one in the toy box at her grandma's house, but she'd never cared enough to try to solve it.

Cameron's thoughts were interrupted when she felt House's hand dip down and under her shirt eventually finding it's way to her breast. His fingers gently massaging her made her take another deep satisfying breath then let it out slowly. She considered returning the favor between his legs but decided she'd wait and see if he was interested in anything more. If he was, she was certain he'd let her know but she was perfectly content to stay right here.

"That feels good," she quietly moaned but she was sure he already knew how she felt by the way his fingers would occasionally drag across her nipple.

* * *

By the time the movie had ended, Cameron was out like a light. As good as the movie was, he really couldn't have cared less. He was more interested in sitting here quietly with her. Even in her sleep, she was reacting to his touch and he hated to let her go. So he sat holding her and touching her for a while longer.

Now came the challenge of waking the dead. He reluctantly pulled his hand from underneath her shirt and tried pushing her up to a sitting position but she was like a human-sized Jell-O mold. He pushed her up and she fell back down, completely unaffected. He pushed her up again and managed to balance her in the sitting position but by the time he started to lever himself off the couch, she fell back down again, this time behind him. This was hopeless.

He sat on the edge of the couch and thought about just leaving her here for the rest of the night but he didn't like the idea of going to bed alone, even if she would be completely unconscious for the next several hours. Then a ridiculous thought came over him.

He turned sideways and looked at her hunched down behind him then stood up and turned to face her.

He leaned over and slid his right arm under her shoulders and his left arm under her knees then paused for a moment. He hoped for all it was worth that he would still be standing when he straightened himself up. Falling backwards and crashing into the coffee table with her on top of him wasn't exactly the way he wanted this day to end.

It wasn't about her weight. She couldn't weigh more than ninety pounds soaking wet, and House had seen her soaking wet. It wasn't even about bearing the extra weight on his leg. It was about his balance and his right arm. He wouldn't be able to use his cane, hell there wasn't even a cane handy.

He tried convincing himself that his arm had been strong enough to hold himself up lately. The more he thought about this the more he wanted to do it. It was something he'd tossed away as simply an impossibility after his infarction. It was just another thing to make him feel like an inadequate cripple.

He pushed his shins against the edge of the couch for support and made certain both arms were securely under her.

"What are you doing?" Cameron mumbled, her eyes barely opening.

"Shit," he barely whispered. No way was he doing this if she was going to wake up. For one, this wasn't going to be pretty and he'd rather not have a witness and two, if she was going to have the audacity to wake up now, she could walk her own damn self to bed.

He stood perfectly still waiting to see what she was going to do. When her face relaxed again and her head bobbed toward his arm, he inhaled deeply and tried again. He slowly straightened himself up making sure he had full control of both of them. He let his breath out slowly as if even that could teeter him in one direction or another.

He thought for a moment, what was going to be the best way to get from here to the bedroom. One of his legs was going to have to go first and he wasn't quite sure which one it should be. Stepping sideways with his left was going to be easier but he'd find out immediately if he could balance them on his right. Then he reasoned, if this was all going to go to hell it might as well do it while he could still drop her back onto the couch.

So he quickly shuffled his good leg to the left, barely letting it leave the ground, then he followed it with his right. He stood still, checking his balance then repeated his efforts once again. He took note of the strength in his arm, knowing that once he rounded the corner of the couch he would be losing his safety net and there'd be no easy way of letting her down.

He glanced down at her and realized this was the first time that he could say he was glad she slept as soundly as coma guy. He couldn't think of any other time when it hadn't been anything but annoying.

But her waking up now could just end badly in so many ways.

Once around the couch he took another deep breath thinking the hardest part was over. He could see a straight path between him and the bed now. All it would take was one slow and steady step at a time.

Of course this was leaving no free hands to turn out the lights so House got brave and stepped close to the wall, pushing Cameron's foot up against the switch. He lifted his left arm just enough to drag her foot against it then let it drop hoping to flip it off. No luck. He tried once more pushing her foot a little more firmly against the wall, success!

Shit. Had he taken just a second to realize there were no other lights on in the apartment? No. He stood for a moment, letting his eyes adjust as much as they were going to then forged straight ahead.

Luckily there was enough moonlight coming in through the blinds covering his bedroom window, giving him something to move towards.

Getting through the door didn't come without its challenges when he had to stop and regain his balance after turning slightly sideways. Luckily for him, well for both of them, the doorframe was just inches away and he could catch himself with his right shoulder avoiding Cameron's head from cracking into the door. Or worse yet, landing on the hardwood floor.

A few more slow and steady steps and he found himself standing at the side of his bed. But setting her down here meant her feet would be in his face all night and that would be completely unacceptable.

Of course she'd have to contend with his feet in her face but he knew she'd never know the difference. Just a little more effort would set everything right. So he slowly made his way to the other side of the bed, leaned over and put her down as gently as he could. He stood up and looked at her while his right hand smoothed slowly over his thigh and his new leg.

Never since his infarction had he realistically thought that his physical condition could ever improve. His pain could possibly be managed, and had, with the right combination of medication and therapy but it would never be gone. Never did he dare to entertain that he could get his mobility back. Now standing there basking in the reality of what he'd just done, Ben and Fulton and everyone else who had gone on about how much better his life could be now, their words needled him and he had to at least consider that they just might have been right. All he knew was that it felt damn good.

He made his way to the other side of his bed with much more ease and stability. He sat down and went trough the tedious motions of coordinating the removal of his leg with the removal of his clothes but a noticeable amount of his annoyance over it had disappeared. He stripped down to his boxer briefs and slid under the sheets assuming that if she woke up cold later then she could manage it herself.

House lay there quietly on his back thinking about the day, about his new bike, the logistics of moving her things to his place, and what they had to do tomorrow until his thoughts started to drop off and fade away. He was brought back to consciousness when Cameron flopped onto her side, pulling up the covers. House instinctively grabbed his share of the blankets before Cameron ended up confiscating them for the rest of the night. Before he drifted back to sleep he felt her shuffle up close to him and drape her arm over his stomach. Feeling her warm breath on his shoulder was the last thing he remembered.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

It had only been two days but Cameron had managed to forget just how painful therapy could be. She'd been lazy all weekend and gone without her brace which of course did nothing but pull her out of alignment while she over-compensated with her left side, leaving her right side stiff and weak.

She bit her lip and held back her groans as the therapist flexed her knee farther than it wanted to go.

"Someone didn't do their exercises this weekend," her therapist said with a patronizing undertone.

Cameron just closed her eyes recalling what she'd put her leg through on the couch with House and thought it best not to disclose that information. She'd likely over-extended it and that was probably another reason why it was so stiff and sore today. She just closed her eyes and tried to be anywhere but there until the sixty painfully long minutes were over.

She had waited all morning to finally be alone with her thoughts long enough to slowly savor everything that had happened over the past twenty-four hours. The weekend had a bumpy start but exposing the elephant in the room that was his injured leg had been worth it. She hoped they were past that now but only time would tell. Cameron understood he'd only had a few weeks to adjust to it himself and she trusted that they were at least headed in the right direction.

Being intimate with House again was really all she had wanted once they were home and Sam was gone. He had always seemed more comfortable expressing himself in non-verbal ways and Cameron had missed that…and him. She missed the tender side of him so rarely seen by anyone but always showed itself to her in the ways that he touched her and how he never stopped until she was satisfied. Ironic as it seemed, while lying there in pain, Cameron couldn't imagine being in a better place.

A twinge of guilt ran through her knowing that she had allowed House to carry her to bed while not letting him know she was awake. She was afraid that if he had known, he'd have never gone through with it. Once in bed, it was all Cameron could do to keep herself from exploding all over him. She had to settle instead with a lazy snuggle while pretending to be asleep. She was awake for some time after that and could tell that he didn't find sleep easily either. She wanted so badly to know what was going through his mind and to share it with him, but even this morning she felt it was best to let him savor that moment privately.

As tough as this had been on him she hoped he was coming to realize that maybe he was in a better place too. Pain management had been a long uphill battle for him but now it appeared that his pain was gone forever. He no longer had to manage it; the source of it was gone. While she knew House would always be…House, she couldn't help but think maybe he would feel like life was finally being a bit more fair to him.

Another surge of pain shot through her knee. She wedged one eye open to glance at the clock on the wall; only ten minutes had passed. She sighed and rested her arms over her eyes and took her medicine like an adult.

She turned her head and decided to tune into the argument that House was participating in on the other side of the room. This could pass the time quite nicely. House was _not_ taking his medicine like an adult, no surprise there.

"My shoulder is…WHAT THE HELL?" he yelled out as the therapist lifted his arm parallel with the bench while bracing his shoulder with her other hand.

"Your shoulder is what Dr House?" Lorraine asked, who seemed to be enjoying this a little more than she should've been.

"It's fine," he grunted.

"Did you exercise it at all this weekend?"

House glanced in Cameron's direction and caught her eye then answered with as much mock sincerity as he could find, "Yes ma'am." Cameron quietly snickered then flinched when her therapist flexed her knee once again.

"I didn't come here for you to do inhumane things to my shoulder anyway. I think I'm missing a limb, or am I the only one that can see the shiny metal thing hanging out from under my shorts?"

"If we don't get your shoulder back to one hundred percent, you may never fully get it back. Is that what you want?"

"What I want is for you to stop treating me like a damn Gumby doll."

"Sorry Dr House," she said as she repeated the motion on him once again with as much enthusiasm as before.

House just let out a deep breath and turned his closed eyes toward the ceiling. Cameron hated to see him suffering but there was something sadistically entertaining about it. She often found his immaturity amusing as long as she wasn't the one being frustrated by it.

"We're going to put a little resistance on your leg today; do you think you're up for that?" Cameron's therapist drew her attention back to her own session while she continued flexing her knee.

"Yeah, sure," she said, still a little distracted.

"Ben, old buddy, old pal," Cameron heard House yell across the room as the technician walked in through the double glass doors.

Ben ignored the over-stated greeting and mumbled something under his breath while he sat down at his desk. He pulled a laptop in front of him, flipped it open and turned it on.

"That's Ben," he said smirking up at Lorraine, "he's my _real_ therapist."

"He's not a therapist, Dr House," she corrected him; "he's a technician."

"Therapist…technician, tomato…_tom-ah-to_," he mocked some uninterested confusion, "he's the one I came to see. Not you." He sneered at her.

"Well, he won't start until I'm finished with you," she lorded over him.

"Hey Ben!" he yelled across the room again but Ben continued to ignore him.

Lorraine snickered at Ben's lack of reaction and lifted his arm, making House groan yet again.

Cameron was enjoying the way his therapist had him right where she wanted him. It was sure to make him grumpy for the rest of the day, but watching this was worth it.

"Okay, let's get you over on the Total Gym," Cameron's therapist instructed. Cameron walked over and leaned back against the slightly reclined sliding bench. By turning her head she was still able to continue to watch the saga going on across the room. She placed her feet on the platform, knees bent in a slight squat.

"We're just gonna start you on a slight incline with about half your body weight and see how you do."

Cameron slowly pushed against the platform, sliding the bench up the track until she had her legs full extended. Surprisingly, she didn't feel too much pain, more just a discomfort and tightness around her knee. She repeated this motion another ten times with relative ease, all while continuing to watch the sideshow starring House and Lorraine.

* * *

Whatever the queen of pain was doing to his shoulder hurt like hell but he refused to admit how much better it was making it feel. It indeed had gotten stiff and sore on him over the weekend.

"Do your exercises between now and Wednesday and we won't have to go through this again, Dr House."

"But it hurts so good," he strained over to read her hospital ID badge, "Lorraine. Are you busy tonight?" With that she dropped his arm letting it fall to his side and she walked away, ignoring his mockery. "I'll take that as a yes," he smirked to her back.

Lorraine and Ben exchanged a few words and House could see Ben's posture turn to one of despair. He sat idly in his chair while his therapist left the room.

"Oh Ben," he sing-songed.

"I'm coming," he sighed as he ran his hands down his face then pushed himself away from his desk with the laptop in his hands, a bundle of wires hanging loosely from it.

"Been having a lot of fun with that leg?" Ben asked sarcastically, walking towards him.

"As a matter of fact I have." House gave him a cocky smile then couldn't help but briefly relive the feeling of his accomplishment the night before.

"Still limping?" Ben paused, "Still using your cane?" House had no answer.

"Thought so," Ben mumbled, "Too bad you didn't stay for your full session last week so we could fix that for you."

"I had things to do…important doctor stuff," House smirked at him, "You wouldn't understand."

"You've been on leave…" Ben started to argue but was rudely interrupted.

"Are you going to do your job or am I going to have to call Momma Cuddy again?"

"Stand up." Ben stated curtly.

"You gonna get rough with me like Lucile did?" House waggled his eyebrows at him, "I liked that. We have a date later. Wanna join in?"

Ben just took in a slow and deep breath and repeated his instructions to stand between the parallel bars. House stood up and did as he was told. Ben gently placed the laptop on the floor and connected three wires to House's leg, plugging one of them into the microprocessor just under his knee.

"Ooh, this looks interesting. Are you going to shock me? Can you bring that with you tonight? I can probably get Dr Cameron to join in if you do," House said holding onto the bars and motioning his head in Cameron's direction.

"God, can you shut up for just fifteen minutes?" Ben finally exploded at him.

"Oh gotcha. That time of the month huh?" House mumbled out of the side of his mouth, mocking a mix of discretion and understanding.

Exasperated, Ben interrupted, "This is going to make the final adjustments on your leg so it will more closely resemble your gait pattern."

House finally closed his mouth, now intrigued with Ben and his cool toys.

"The blisters you inevitably got from using this too soon are normal but could have been lessened had you let me do this last week."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it."

"Let's do a couple runs here before I capture the measurements. Walk from one end to the other as naturally as you possibly can."

House quickly swiped his bottom lip with his tongue then bit it lightly before moving slowly from one end of the parallel bars to the other.

"Okay, this time without limping or watching your feet."

House carefully turned himself around and slowly returned to the other end, keeping his eyes straight ahead and concentrating on each step. Rocking forward on his right then letting it swing while his weight was on his left.

"Okay, that'll do. Hold on just a second while I get this ready." Ben squinted at the screen on the laptop he was cradling in his arm and typed on a couple keys before giving House the go ahead.

House moved from one end of the bars to the other yet again trying to walk as naturally as he could but he had a couple things working against him. One, there was nothing natural about his right leg, and two, he hadn't walked naturally in over seven years.

"Good," Ben mumbled, concentrating on the monitor, "We'll do this three more times and then we'll make the adjustments."

Three more trips and a few clicks of the keys and Ben was ready to download the final settings to House's new leg.

"You're going to notice quite a difference now," Ben smiled, trying to encourage him and call a truce.

House just stood there, hands on the bars and leaning forward, repeatedly puffing his upper lip with air. He hoped that he wouldn't be disappointed. He hoped that sooner than later something about walking would start to feel natural again. Not that he had any idea what that meant anymore.

"Okay…all set," Ben squatted down and disconnected the wires. He stayed on his haunches and looked up at House, "Give it a try."

House let go of the bars and slowly walked to the other end, feeling how much more controlled the knee would swing forward. He noticed how it would extend itself just in time to shift his weight from his left leg to his right.

"It's going to take some time to learn to trust it, Dr House. That's normal. But even if you stumble, the leg will know what to do."

House just quietly nodded his head and turned around for another go. He was so much more stable now; he doubted he'd need his cane. He turned to Ben and only managed half of a smile. His pride kept the other half hidden away. But Ben got the message and gave him a wide smile in return.

"All we really need to do now is work a little more on steps and inclines, the rest will be up to you." Ben stopped and waited until House gave him his full attention, "You know, there really is nothing you can't do now," he finished sincerely.

"Any physical activities you were involved with before your original injury? You can do them again. Now if you want to get serious about any of them, we'll have to fit you for an athletic prosthesis, but for the average person, you can do it all with what you have right there."

House quietly nodded his head again and looked down at his leg, his mind filling with new possibilities in his life, things that had been denied him for too many years.

* * *

Wilson turned the corner and spotted House headed for his office. He was immediately taken by how naturally House was walking and without his cane. It looked strange actually, but he was happy for his friend. At that moment, it really hit home how maybe things could be back to the way they were for them before the infarction. Things had just changed so much, House had changed and he only assumed he probably had, too. It wasn't only the physical activities that were squelched but dealing with House's pain and addiction had unavoidably taken its toll on their friendship. He couldn't say they were worse off because of it, but it hadn't been an easy road.

"Hey! Good weekend?" Wilson yelled down the hall.

House turned his head then stopped and turned fully to face Wilson with surprising ease.

"Without you to bug the hell out of me? Perfect!" House grinned then turned to head towards Wilson's office.

Wilson broke into a jog trying to beat House to the cinnamon roll sitting on his desk but by the time he got there, House was licking his lips and enjoying his first bite.

"It's even warm," House mumbled around a mouthful of _his_ breakfast. Well, more like brunch by now.

"No shit," Wilson said, disgusted with his hands on his hips.

"You make these?"

"No…"

House got an evil grin on his face as if he could read his mind, "Oh yeah? Then who did? Could you smell them baking when you woke up this morning?"

"No," Wilson answered curtly. The last five weeks had been enjoyably serene around the hospital without House to meddle in his personal life; once he knew he was going to be okay, that is. A brief vision of House lying on the gurney, unconscious and bloody, being wheeled in by the EMTs flashed across his mind. He shook it off as quickly as it came then smiled faintly at him. House just returned a disappointed look since Wilson hadn't taken his bait.

"So who is she…or he?" House asked with one eyebrow raised, taking another bite of the roll.

"You'd like to know, wouldn't you?" Wilson tempted him as he walked around his desk and plopped down in his chair.

"Is it Ben?" House's mouth was full again, "Cause I had a feeling about you two."

Wilson tilted his head and gave him a look telling him he was not amused, "Where's Cameron?"

"Nice try," House laughed, "Who is she?"

Wilson just took a deep breath and mindlessly shuffled a few papers around on his desk trying to avoid the topic.

"Oh. My. God." House started, sounding like a co-ed, "it's Kimberly isn't it?"

"So where is Cameron anyway?" Wilson looked up quickly and stared at him, telling him to drop it, now.

House laughed loudly, "You dog! Kimberly over at Mickey's?"

Wilson turned on the monitor for his computer and started trying to look busy but he knew his friend better than that. This conversation wouldn't be over until he was satisfied.

"So…how have you managed to keep up with a girl half your age?" House finally sat down carefully in the brown leather chair in Wilson's office.

"It's not always about the sex, ya know," Wilson avoided looking at him.

"With someone half your age? It sure the hell is! Spill it." House took another bite quickly grabbing the crumb that fell onto his shirt.

"Is it all about the sex with Cameron?" Wilson asked smugly, knowing this would surely shut him up, and it did. House returned a cautionary look that soon faded, but he couldn't keep himself from one last comment, "Well, Cameron isn't twenty-one years old."

"Kimberly is twenty-two," he corrected him with a grin.

"So she cooks? Lucky you," House pushed some more.

"Eh, no. I think they make them there at the restaurant in the mornings," finally leaning back in his chair and giving into the conversation now that he knew House wouldn't push him much further, "sometimes she brings stuff over to me."

"That's quite a sweet hookup to have," House grinned again, popping the last of the cinnamon roll into his mouth, "so when are we going tux shopping for the prom?"

"So…again…where's Cameron?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?"

"I don't know. Probably because you keep avoiding the answer."

"She wasn't done with her physio yet," she answered casually, then quickly asked, "Wanna see my new bike?"

Wilson looked at his watch, "Sure, but I have someone in surgery."

"You've got a pager don't you?" House took a little effort to push himself out of the soft chair.

Wilson looked at the fifteen unopened email messages on his monitor then turned it off, "This can wait. Let's go."

He stood up and followed his friend out into the hallway, pleased to see him walking with practically no noticeable limp at all now.

"You adjusted to that pretty quickly," Wilson offered, coming up beside him and looking down at his leg.

"Yeah, once your boyfriend finally did his job."

Wilson thought back to the House of just a couple months ago and how he'd finally started to seem happy again, then he thought about his friend now. Things were definitely on the right path for him, and although he'd never say it, Wilson was proud of his friend for being open to the improvements.

* * *

Cameron walked into the doctors' lounge finding House and Wilson in a heated game of foosball. They were both too focused on the competition, neither of them bothered to look up and acknowledge her. Actually, she doubted either of them had even noticed she was there. She stood and watched while the two grown men followed the ball up and down the table, batting it with their little men attached to the metal bars with amazing skill that had only been achieved with hours of practice.

"I play winner," Cameron announced but she got no response as she walked over to the table and sat down the laptop that was tucked under her arm.

One final spirited spin and Cameron heard the fateful clunk of the ball hitting the goal as the two men erupted then quickly settled down. House had the widest grin of the two so she only assumed it was Wilson's goalie who had failed to block the shot. But both doctors looked pleased…no, they both looked happy. Something that both of them wore quite well and Cameron hoped it was something that was here to stay for a long while.

"I so own you," House sneered at Wilson.

Wilson ignored his gloating and turned to Cameron, "Hey," a smile still spread across his face.

"Hey Wilson," Cameron smiled warmly back at him.

"So are girls allowed to play this game?"

"What do you think Wilson is?" House answered in a tone that clearly communicated how silly of a question that was.

"C'mon. I'll take on both of you girls," House said.

Cameron stepped up to the table taking the offensive line and held her fist out to Wilson wanting a show of unity with her new teammate. Wilson looked at her strangely for a moment then tentative tapped his fist on top of hers and questioned House out of the corner of his eye.

"Bring it," she said to House with a look on her face that she hoped looked as bad-assed as she was trying to be.

"Don't even try," House scoffed at her, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Loser buys dinner tonight," Wilson threw down his own challenge.

"That's so not fair," House whined, "there's two of you!" Then he added, "Oh what the hell, I've got free food comin' at me anyway. I don't care who pays for it." He dropped the white ball down the chute and the game was on.

The little ball rolled up and down the table banging off of the sides and getting kicked by little plastic soldiers dressed in soccer outfits. Cameron managed to gain control of the ball wedging it between the table and one of her players. She looked up at House and gave him as tough of a look as she could. No sooner had he rolled his eyes at her when she flicked the ball quickly to the side and launched it right down the middle and past House's unprepared goalie.

She flung both arms in the air giving a long and annoying shout of 'goal' then turned to Wilson and gave him a double high-five trying to annoy House as much as she possibly could.

"You cheated," House whined.

"How the hell do you cheat at foosball?" she shot back about two octaves above her normal tone.

House huffed and leaned down to grab the ball while he had no response.

"I didn't spend all of my college years in the library ya know," she informed him, "we better stop off at the ATM on our way home. Someone's gonna need some cash," she glanced at Wilson and grinned.

"You're annoying when you're cocky," he furrowed his eyebrows at her.

"Well, 'sore loser' doesn't exactly look attractive on you either," Cameron just shook her head and repositioned her little plastic men while House tossed the ball in for another round.

Ten minutes and six goals later Cameron and Wilson were up six to one when Wilson's pager interrupted the competition allowing House an easy goal. Wilson widened his eyes and pointed at House's chest, "Now _that's_ cheating." He pulled his pager off of his belt and looked at it, "I have to go. Got a patient coming out of post-op."

He pushed down his sleeves and buttoned the cuffs before shrugging his lab coat back on and running his hands quickly through his hair. "Don't let me down," Wilson hitched his eyebrows at Cameron and pointed at her as he backed into the door opening it into the hallway.

"Feel free to bring Kimberly tonight," House yelled at Wilson's back as the door shut behind him.

"Kimberly?" Cameron asked as she stepped to the middle of the table and strategically positioned all four rows of men.

"From Mickey's?" she asked, surprised.

House waggled his eyebrows at her then remembered they were in the middle of a heated competition here. He quickly narrowed his steely blue eyes and sneered, "Game on."

Cameron snorted through her nose and tried to turn her laugh into a serious glare back at him. She only got halfway through a very unconvincing 'bring it' before she snorted again.

House dropped the ball and inside of four seconds had scored against her. "Six three," he announced confidently with a hint of boredom in his voice.

"Three? That's only two!"

"No, I just scored when your slacker teammate got distracted."

"…by his pager!" Cameron argued.

"Doesn't matter," House argued back.

"Eh," Cameron shrugged, "you'll need it."

She grabbed the ball and positioned it over the chute, "Wanna up the stakes?" she looked at him suggestively.

House looked up at her intrigued and Cameron dropped the ball. This time she was the one to score with one solid shot down the middle. "_Seven_ three," Cameron mimicked his arrogant nonchalant tone.

House tucked the ball away in his palm and put both hands on the edge of the table and leaned toward her, "Just what did you have in mind?" he lifted one eyebrow at her.

"Winner's choice," she grabbed his eyes and gave her head a quick upward nod, "drop the ball."

House released the ball and after several missed goals by each of them, Cameron managed to sink it once again.

House smirked at her, "Now maybe I want you to win."

"_Eight_ three. Sure about that?" she challenged.

"Bring it," House glared, holding onto a cocky disposition.

Cameron felt her features soften as she looked at him smiling. God, this felt so good.

Now she had to admit it really didn't matter who won. Although she was curious just to see what he could come up with so five straight goals by House tied up the score.

"Eight eight," House eyed her suspiciously.

"We could leave it at eight eight and just tell Wilson he had to buy," Cameron suggested.

House chuckled, "I've got you scared now don't I?"

"Scared isn't exactly how I'd describe it," Cameron mocked some ornery thoughtfulness before she dropped the ball back onto the table and took advantage of a slightly distracted House and scored again, "_Nine_ eight."

House quickly dropped the ball back into play and the two of them battled for the win. Cameron was focused intently on the ball House had wedged between his offensive line and the side of the table when she saw him suddenly reach for his right thigh. He grimaced and closed his eyes, "What the hell…" he pushed through clenched teeth. She quickly looked up at him concerned, "House?" Suddenly, with two quick moves House had scored and tied it up again.

"That wasn't funny!" Cameron scolded him, "shit…" she breathed out, her heart pounding. But one look up at his grin had her fighting to keep from forgiving him, "That _seriously_ wasn't funny," she repeated, trying unsuccessfully to get her point across.

"Ah stop whining and drop the ball."

It was a battle to the finish, no tricks and no foul play. Several skillful shots proved unfruitful for Cameron and no matter how hard House tried to nail the ball, she always managed to deflect it. Cameron wanted to look up and watch the concentration on his face but dared not look away until she remembered, to her, it really didn't matter who won. Just seeing him try so hard would be worth it. So she glanced up and caught him staring intently at the table his tongue just poking out of the right corner of his mouth. One side of his face would twitch and one eye would squint when he'd try a skillful shot versus one of his power plays; that's when he bit his lower lip. Cameron decided she'd better at least try so he wouldn't think she let him win, but it was too late. Her goalie was slightly out of position and House managed to get a diagonal shot past her.

"Yes!" House dragged out, his fists high in the air.

"So Wilson buys?" Cameron asked.

"Wilson was going to buy no matter what happened," he paused and looked at her for a moment, "but I just earned winner's choice."

"Uh huh, so what's your pick? I'm kinda in the mood for pizza," Cameron said turning away and was tucking the laptop under her arm again.

"Winner's choice wasn't about the food selection," House corrected.

Cameron turned and gave him a confused look, "Sure it was. What did you think I meant?"

"Not what was on the menu for dinner. I can tell you that!" he eyed her looking for any sign of resignation.

"Maybe dessert?" she grinned deviously at him.

"That's more like it," House hitched a proud eyebrow at her and rounded the foosball table. He walked over to the couch, picking up a new black soft leather backpack.

"Hey, nice," Cameron said, pulling on one side of it and checking it out, "where'd you get that?"

House rolled his eyes at his friend's gesture, "Wilson, who else." He held it open for her while she dropped her new laptop inside.

"Well, I think it's cool…and expensive," Cameron noted, "that was thoughtful of him."

"Whatever," he scoffed as he held the door open for her. "He just can't help himself."

"Hey, can we run over to my place? I have a few things I want to pick up," she asked, walking past him.

"Will they fit in the bag?"

"Yep," she answered simply, now walking ahead of him.

"You sure?" he asked, "Cause I wanna stop by the hardware store and get one of those removable shower thingies."

"Yeah, I just wanna pick up a few things so I can start getting my address switched over," Cameron turned to look at him while they continued down the deserted hall.

"Oh yeah…I spoke with Wilson about that. Seems he's not so lonely anymore," House said enthusiastically, still trying to catch up, "guess you're gonna have to just move in with me."

"Thank you," Cameron put her hand to her chest mocking some relief, "all his primping was going to drive me nuts!" Cameron questioned House with her eyes, "So…Kimberly eh?" she chuckled.

* * *

Cameron searched through piles of papers and envelopes on the desk in her apartment while House sat on the couch reading about the finer points of the removable showerhead he'd just picked up at the hardware store. The open leather backpack and both helmets lying beside him.

She flipped through a black notebook mumbling something about how she never should have trusted a computer to keep all of her personal information safe. Cuddy had gotten her a replacement during their leave since her original one was lost in the wreck.

Cameron shut the book, looking puzzled, and tossed a handful of unopened envelopes on the couch beside House. She disappeared down the hallway and he could hear her shuffling through some things in her bedroom.

"What are you looking for?" he called down the hall, keeping his eyes on that afternoon's project.

"An old address book I used to have," her voice was muffled. Not that he could help her even if he did know what she was hunting for. They never spent much time at her place and he'd never become familiar with where she kept anything. It was always just easier to ask her or to make her get it for him.

He remembered the evening before the wreck when they'd spent the night here and he couldn't keep his mind from thinking how if things had turned out differently, that would have been the last time he would have felt her under him or woke up next to her. But those thoughts quickly gave way to the memory that this had also served as the place where he _had_ first felt her under him even though he couldn't quite say the it was the first time he woke up next to her.

He failed to remember the pathetic excuse he'd conjured up before knocking on her door but he _could_ remember that nothing he did that night took Cameron by surprise or met any resistance from her at all. Of course it had started with its awkward moments but soon became easy and natural. It was clearly something that both of them had been anticipating in their own minds for some time. It had only been a week since they'd returned from his detox and they'd been spending an unusual amount of time together. House figured Cameron was just afraid to leave him alone for too long – afraid he might relapse.

He liked having her around but he was nowhere near admitting that, even to himself. He pushed back his feelings while rationalizing that he needed the distraction while his body continued to adjust to being clean. It was certainly better than living out his six-week suspension alone.

A comfortable evening on his couch had ended with a kiss at the door that felt different than the rest. One that neither of them wanted to let go of and ended in a look from Cameron that clearly told him what she wanted. But he stalled for too long and before he knew it she'd opened the door and was gone. The few minutes he waited before he followed after her felt like hours as he paced and deliberated over his options. The time that he stood outside her apartment door felt even longer but when he finally knocked, and she answered, he didn't need to fumble with the lame excuse he'd repeated in his head so many times that it was sure to come out wrong. She knew why he was there.

His imagination had been fairly accurate when it came to the illusive details of her body that she kept hidden from everyone else. He'd had over three years of unnoticed observation to perfect those images in his head. But what surprised him was her allowance for his leg and the pain she would cause when she would bump it unintentionally. He had feared that sex with Cameron would involve at least half a dozen apologies before it was over, but it didn't turn out that way. One thoughtful look from her when she bumped it the first time and that was it. It hurt like hell but there was nothing else she could have said or done to put him more at ease than that. Had it turned into the charity event he had tried to prepare himself for, he doubted the last seven months would have ever happened.

Eventually, her painful jars became less and less frequent until she'd learned to work around his injured thigh. But never once was it discussed between them. Now, with the pain gone completely, they would be free to experiment with things that simply were not a possibility before.

"Find it yet?" House yelled back the hallway again.

"No," Cameron sounded frustrated.

House pushed himself up off of the couch and walked to the doorway of her bedroom, "Is it really that important?"

"Not really," she said exasperated. She stopped shuffling through her things on the dresser for a moment and House could see her wondering where she should look next.

"You'll find it when you pack your stuff up," he offered.

Cameron thought for a moment. "I guess I should call and get some storage space rented," she looked over at him.

"If that's what you wanna do," he answered tentatively.

"What else is there to do?"

"You could have one of those sales where people come and haggle over your junk," he offered a grin thinking she might not appreciate him calling her things 'junk'. Cameron actually had a way of surrounding herself with very nice and comfortable things; him being the exception of course.

She looked at him thoughtfully with a smile and dared to look a little surprised, "You think I should sell my things?"

"Eh, do what you want," House shrugged off, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation as he walked into her room and stood behind her. Cameron's gaze shifted from him to their reflection in the mirror attached to her dresser as he wrapped his arms loosely around her from behind.

She smiled at him then closed her eyes and tilted her head to one side allowing his lips to graze the softness of her neck. Little by little, his kisses inched their way towards her ear then he nuzzled her there with his rough cheek. He wondered what that must feel like to her, if it ever hurt, especially on the more sensitive areas of her body. But she always seemed to like it and she snickered a content little sigh then hugged his arms around her stomach. He was watching her reactions intently in the mirror and held onto her eyes when she opened them to look at him again.

"Close your eyes," he said quietly next to her ear. He felt her back rise against his chest and her body tense slightly.

He watched the reflection of them standing there. She had a way of actually making him feel young on occasion, even when she did nothing more than just be Cameron. But seeing them together, his older reflection contrasting with hers, he was reminded of just how much of an anomaly they really were. Nothing about them seemed to fit, but somehow it was working.

The reality of that tried its damnedest to rationalize the chances of this coming to an end someday with him finding she simply couldn't choke it down any longer, that she'd compromised as long as she could tolerate and had nothing more to give. That she hadn't fully thought through the consequences of being with him. But those voices were getting weaker and less persuasive the longer this thing they had kept slowly moving forward. He had never felt so comfortable and accepted by another human being, outside of his mother of course, but this was different. Cameron didn't have to love him, but it seemed that she did anyway.

House tugged on her shirt, pulling it out of her jeans, and slid his hand inside. Still only occasionally touching her neck and jaw with his lips, he continued to watch her in the mirror. His fingers drew random patterns across the soft skin of her abdomen, but when he accidentally grazed the scar from her surgery, he dropped down to circle her navel.

"You suck at foosball," he said in a mild attempt to antagonize her but she only mumbled in distracted agreement.

His fingers stopped in place and he gave her a disappointed glare that at first went unnoticed.

Cameron finally looked at his reflection and laughed, "Okay, so what'll it be? Wings? We haven't had them…"

"Eyes closed," he demanded then resumed dragging his fingertips across her delicate skin. She complied, but only paused for a second, "…we had Chinese last night."

Cameron's smile told him she was finding it hard to keep this obviously lame joke going much longer.

House slid his hand up to her breast and gave it a gentle squeeze then pressed a firm circle against it with his palm, "Would you rather have wings?" He paused for a moment waiting for her response, but from her contented expression it didn't appear that she had one. House slid his hand under the silky material of her bra and found her nipple already hard as he dragged his thumb across it.

"Because that could be arranged if that's really what you want."

"Huh uh," Cameron finally answered in a faint, breathless murmur. Her eyes still closed and resting her head back against his shoulder.

"Thought so," he joked with a little bit of playful arrogance at his obvious effect on her. He moved to unbutton her jeans, watching his hands and her face in the mirror and feeling the increasing rise and fall of her back against his chest. The look on her face morphed pleasure with anticipation and it directly affected him below.

He stopped short of fully unzipping them when Cameron pushed back into him, moving from side to side. House almost instinctively grabbed her hips and pulled her hard against him, grinding into her. His lips had barely returned to her neck when she turned to face him, took his face in her hands and kissed him, her tongue reaching into his mouth the moment he parted his lips.

He stood as straight as he could with his lips still anxiously caressing hers. He slowly turned them both and backed her towards the door. He guided them, his hands on her hips and his feet straddling hers in a clumsy attempt not to step on her as she awkwardly followed his lead.

He pushed the door shut and pressed her against it, moving both hands to finish removing her jeans. He felt his groin pressing hard against her and hoped she'd do something about it soon. No sooner had he finished his thought when he felt her fingers drag down his cheeks and start working on his belt, their kiss growing deeper.

He heard her let go of a desperate but quiet moan as he pushed her jeans past her hips, dragging her panties along with them. He knelt down enough to push them past her knees until they fell voluntarily to her ankles. After kicking off her shoes and stepping up and on her jeans a couple of times, Cameron pushed them to the side and out of their way.

When he straightened back up, Cameron concentrated fully on doing the same to him but he took both of her hands once his jeans were past his hips and he was free of them. Weaving his fingers between hers and holding her hands at their sides, he leaned down and began kissing her again until both he and his courage were ready. It took his courage a little longer to catch up with the rest of him but finally he moved his hands to her hips then slid them around to her firm backside.

"Are you sure about this?" Cameron asked, wrapping her arms tight around his shoulders, anticipating what he had in mind.

"Ben said I can do anything now," he smiled against her then bent his knees slightly before hoisting her up and pinning her against the door. He wasn't quite sure why but he couldn't admit that he'd taken his leg for a test drive while carrying her to bed the night prior.

Cameron wrapped her legs around his hips then he felt one of her hands leave his back and take hold of him. He looked down and pulled his hips back before looking up and holding her eyes for as long as he could. But feeling Cameron be painfully slow about dragging him to where she wanted him, forced his eyes to close and his breath to be trapped inside his chest. It was _her_ turn to watch _his_ reaction and he hoped it was having the same effect on her as it was having on him.

He was quickly losing control of his thoughts and when he opened his mouth to speak, all that came out was an unintelligible whimper. The sudden unsteadiness in his left knee made him become keenly aware of just how humiliating this would be if it all went to hell but it was too late now; her tease was becoming unbearable. Once she finally let go and wrapped her arm around his neck, he eagerly pushed all the way into her and Cameron released a breathy groan. House's deep throaty response echoed hers.

One of Cameron's hands tangled in the hair on the back of his head and she resumed their kiss. It was slow and anything but gentle.

House's confidence slowly began to grow as he started to move in and out of her; only slight movements at first but as he became more sure of himself he pulled out a little further each time. He could sense this wasn't going to take long, for either of them.

Only moments later, he felt her orgasm and he pushed all of his weight into her, holding her firmly against the door. Soon, he released deep inside her, his legs shaking under him and Cameron's body was tense and rigid holding onto his. He held her there until he felt her body relax, still clinging tightly to him, both of them fighting for their next breath.

After a few moments, he leaned back and held her more with his arms than with the rest of his body and gently touched his lips to hers. Cameron was mostly unresponsive with her head leaning back on the door and her eyes closed. Her breathing was still ragged but slowly becoming more controlled. House took advantage of her exposed neck, nuzzling it once then kissing it.

"I'm so glad I let you win that game," Cameron breathed out, her arms and legs still wrapped around him.

"Uh huh," House laughed lightly into the moist skin on her neck.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has followed this story so far! I always appreciate your feedback! One more chapter to go...

Chapter 17

"No green peppers?" House lowered the lid on the pizza box and turned his eyes sarcastically at Wilson.

"Well, since you actually earned this one…" Wilson's lame explanation for being nice fell away as he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on an empty chair.

House fished in the pocket of his jeans for his phone, flipped it open, and hit redial. He hit the couch the same time the pizza hit the coffee table.

"Yes?" he heard her answer in a low sultry voice. A devious grin spread across his face thinking caller ID was the best invention…ever. It took a moment for him to get past the number of erotic thoughts that came to mind and to remember why he'd called her in the first place. The visuals he could save for later.

"House?" Cameron asked tentatively.

"Damn that's not fair," House whined quietly, "and I'm stuck here with Wilson." Cameron's laugh belted out in his ear.

"I'm hungry and there's a hot pizza sitting in front of me," he informed her, finally raising his voice to it's normal level.

Cameron apparently answered, but her voice sounded distant and hardly audible.

"I can't hear you."

House heard scratchy shuffling noises then Cameron's voice came in clearly, "Sorry. I'm trying to juggle too many things at once here." He could almost see her doing whatever it was she was doing while trying to wedge-juggle the phone between her shoulder and ear.

Cameron's voice disappeared then returned again, "Hey, I'm throwing a couple things in the car then I'll be on my way. Don't wait on me. Just save me some."

"We can wait. Wilson just got here."

Hearing this, Wilson looked at House then reached for the pizza box but House pushed it back down to the table. He opened it then grabbed a corner piece and put the entirety of it in his mouth.

"Okay, I'll be there in about ten. Sorry, I just got carried away throwing stuff out."

House chewed a couple times then tried to answer discreetly, "Well, hurry up."

"We can wait huh?" Cameron chuckled on the other end of the phone.

"Hurry up," House warned then flipped his phone closed and tossed it on the coffee table.

Wilson helped himself to his own corner piece then took the rest to the kitchen and put it in the oven to stay warm, "So what did you do this afternoon?" Wilson asked casually.

"Nothing," …_except nail Cameron against her bedroom door._

"That sounds exciting," Wilson answered returning to the living room and sitting on the other end of the couch.

House quickly hitched his eyebrows and hid his satisfied grin while he reached for the remote, "So…Kimberly."

At first Wilson rolled his eyes, "You're not going to let this go are you?" When he looked over and saw House's 'duh' expression he continued, "Yeah…I dunno. We've been hanging out for a while."

"Hanging out?" House over exaggerated, "now you're twenty-one, too?"

"Twenty-two," Wilson quickly corrected him.

House just cradled the remote in his hand and waited for his friend to continue. Wilson folded his hands behind his head and leaned back on the couch, his legs stretched out long in front of him and crossed at the ankles, looking straight ahead at the TV.

"And you didn't tell me?" House pushed.

Wilson turned to face him and laughed, "Would _you_ tell you?"

"How can I not tell me? Wilson, think about it," House tipped his head to the side and looked disappointed at his friend's logic.

"Well, one day a while back for no reason," Wilson's mouth turned up at one corner exposing a presumptuous smile, then mumbled on mostly to himself about how he guessed it wasn't _exactly_ for no reason, then continued, "she just started showing up around the hospital."

"And?"

"Eh," Wilson shrugged acting like it was no big deal which only served to stir up House's curiosity that much more.

"So the other day at Mickey's…"

"Yep," Wilson leaned back on his hands and sounded proud of his accomplishment.

He turned to face House again and smirked, "And you had no idea…admit it."

"Hell I knew. C'mon Wilson." But no, he'd had no idea. His friend was getting way too crafty. House was definitely going to have to step up his game.

"Right," Wilson chuckled, sounding unconvinced, "Anyway…that was the first time she'd given me her number so I decided what the hell and we had a couple beers."

"Couple beers in _Wilsonese_ means her spilling her HDA while you think about peeling her panties," House speculated sarcastically.

"Why do I tell you anything?" Wilson resigned.

"Because you're pathetic," House rattled off nonchalantly, "so what happened?"

"Eh," Wilson couldn't hide the fun he was having with this.

"Bastard," House mumbled as he finally clicked on the TV, "I think I'm going to be hungry for Mickey's wings here soon."

Wilson just laughed, "I'm sure she'll tell you everything. We both know how fond of you she is."

The conversation fell quiet and only the sound of the TV was heard in the room while House devised a plan to satisfy his curiosity.

"So what's the deal with your leg?" Wilson quickly changed the subject.

"Eh," House screwed up his face and mocked him.

"So mature…" Wilson turned to watch the TV.

"Lumberjacking mishap," House started flipping through the channels.

Wilson just shot him a smart-ass glance but House didn't turn to acknowledge it.

"So that's it? You can do whatever you want now?"

"I'm still working on that leaping-tall-buildings-in-a-single-bound thing," he looked over and eyed Wilson.

"It just all seemed to come together so," Wilson's voice trailed almost to a stop then he finished carefully, "easy."

"I just made it look easy," he smirked at Wilson.

"And the pain?"

"It hurts in the morning when I put it on," House offered.

"But all your previous pain?" Wilson continued gingerly.

House just shrugged his shoulders signaling that he was done with this conversation. But to answer Wilson's question, yes, it was gone. The pain he had lived with every day and every night for the past six years seemed to be a thing of the past now. The pain that had unyieldingly claimed his identity for so long that he could hardly remember life without it had been thrown out along with the rest of his leg in the operating room on the day of the wreck, just like that, and as much as he didn't want to admit to it, so had a part of who he'd become.

It was an unexplainable feeling; really…unexplainable. Not in the euphoric sense but in the true meaning of the word. He knew he should be happy about it, and he was. But the happiness felt muddied by a reality that he would never be free of.

Along with his pain went his excuse for a high that allowed him to escape much more than just the torturous jolts through his injured leg. It was his sanctuary and now his free ticket back to that hiding place had been taken away. No pain meant no pills…ever again, legally. He felt like one ungrateful son of a bitch, but he couldn't deny it.

House looked over at Wilson who was watching him flip mindlessly through the channels when he heard Cameron return.

"Hey," she greeted them, tossing her keys on the table beside the door, "sorry to keep you guys waiting."

"Hey Cameron," Wilson mumbled.

"You _did_ wait, didn't you?" House could visualize her standing behind them with her hands perched on her hips trying to look pissy.

Wilson finally turned to her as she walked down the hall with a large duffle hanging heavily from her sholder, "Staying for a few more days?"

"A few," Cameron answered and House could almost hear the smile on her face.

Wilson turned to House and questioned him but all he got was a smug look as House pushed himself off of the couch to retrieve the pizza from the oven, "That's a two way street there, Jimmy."

"All I have to do is ask Cameron," Wilson said to House's back as he walked away.

"Ask me what?" Cameron asked innocently, walking into the living room and dropping herself into the chair opposite the couch.

"Just a few more days?"

Cameron looked at him a little confused at first, never being able to work out the quirks of his and House's friendship, and answered with a slight grin, "I guess I'm moving in."

Wilson raised his eyebrows and tipped his head to the side in surprise. House returned with the pizza box and three cold beers sitting on top. Having the second hand free while he walked still felt like getting a new pair of tennis shoes for school years ago. You know, where you want excuses to do things and go places just so you can wear them? But then it only served to reiterate the 'ungrateful son of a bitch' part.

He sat the warm box down and scooted the beers off to the table.

"Where's the green peppers?" Cameron mocked some disappointment, picking up her first piece and examining it.

House eagerly bit into his first piece and obnoxiously mumbled his satisfaction.

"When are you two finally coming back to work?" Wilson took a sip of his beer.

"Wednesday maybe," House answered, "not that there's any reason to come back if we don't have a case. Cuddy'll just make me work on all the backed up paperwork."

"I'm sure Cuddy will find you a case. We've been sending a shit load of people down to Princeton General."

"And you still have to replace Foreman," Cameron interjected around a mouthful of pizza.

"Yeah, there's something to look forward to," House grumped sarcastically then added, "I hate breaking in new idiots."

"Well, at least you'll have a fresh new victim to toy with. That should be fun for a while," Wilson offered.

"Yeah, there is that," House agreed and hitched his eyebrows with a deviously thoughtful grin.

"So what's up with Kimberly, Wilson?" Cameron smiled widely.

"Yeah, what's up with Kimberly, Wilson?" House mimicked, as he turned to him expectedly.

* * *

"I give it six months," House said out of nowhere while he sat on the side of his bed, disengaging his leg from the rest of his body. 

"Wilson and Kimberly?" Cameron looked back at his reflection in the mirror as she brushed through her hair.

"Yeah," House answered, looking back at her.

She was standing at his dresser in her underwear and another one of his old t-shirts. House casually wondered what Cameron ever slept in before she started using his clothes.

"Why do you say that?" Cameron continued, returning her attention to her own reflection.

"She's twenty-two, he's forty."

Cameron turned around to look at him fully and gave him an obvious grin wondering if he'd heard the words that just came out of his own mouth.

"Well?" House questioned her look.

"That's what? Eighteen years? Don't you think people say the same thing about us?"

"No, I can only imagine the things people say about us," House said as he plugged the charger into his leg and propped it beside the nightstand. He felt his insecurities deliver a weak and fairly ineffective sucker punch at the thought of how mismatched they appeared to be.

"Anyway, there's only fifteen years between us," he felt compelled to correct her. "And you've been legally buying your own beer for a while now, not to mention _out_ of medical school. You're like…old!"

Cameron just shot him an unimpressed look then returned her attention to the mirror.

"Honestly, I don't care…and I'm a little surprised that you do," Cameron just raised her eyebrows at his reflection.

"I don't," House dismissed the idea while he removed the rest of his clothes leaving only his underwear. He stayed sitting on the edge of the bed and watched her, each stroke starting at her scalp and pulling the length of her hair over the front of her shoulder then doing it again. She caught his eyes then looked away brushing a few more times. She looked again and lingered this time before turning around to face him.

"What?" she questioned him with a curious smile.

"I'm jealous that you look _way_ sexier in my t-shirts than I do."

Cameron tapped a thoughtful finger on her chin then waggled it at him, "I just might have to disagree with you on that one."

House loved the way Cameron refused to believe just how incredibly beautiful she was. There wasn't a pretentious bone in that perfect body of hers and it showed in the way she always understated herself. Her makeup, the clothes she wore, even in the way she wore her hair.

"Yeah," House mumbled as he held her eyes thoughtfully.

Cameron crossed her arms in front of her and chuckled with an even more curious grin than before, "What House?"

He didn't answer, he just watched her. Cameron finally broke his gaze and reached for the light switch when he finally spoke.

"Okay, you win. I look sexier in my t-shirts than you do," House mocked his reluctance to give in while he used his arms to push himself further back on the bed then swung around to lie down, pulling the sheet and blanket over him.

He rolled over to his left side to face her while she walked through the darkness to her side of the bed.

"I agree. That shirt doesn't do a thing for you, I think you need to just take it off."

Cameron laughed lightly as she pulled it over her head and tossed it, hitting House square in the chest. The air that wafted up from it smelled like her perfume and even that was understated. No, he didn't give a damn what anyone thought about them. She lifted the sheet and crawled in, backing herself up next to him. He put his left arm in the crook between her head and shoulder then wrapped his right arm around her waist and pulled her close to him.

"We've lasted longer than six months," Cameron noted, taking his hand that was palm-up on her pillow and lacing her fingers with his. It was the last thing that was said before House heard a light whistling noise escaping her.

House just settled into her in the middle of his bed, well now he supposed it was _their_ bed. A slight smile peered across his face as he took a long, deep, satisfying breath then let it out slowly. Her hair, even though it no longer held the scent of her shower that morning, smelled good to him. He was sinking deep…and he knew it…but to hell with caring.

* * *

"I know it hurts, House. But you know as well as I do that we have to do this," Fulton gave him an arrogant grin. 

House was lying on a table in what appeared to be an OR but no one looked prepped for surgery. Cameron was lying next to him. Her arm was draped across his stomach and he briefly wondered how the two of them could possibly fit on an operating table.

He lifted his head to see what Fulton was holding in his hand. House tried to clear his eyes and focus. The damn thing looked like a bone saw.

"What the hell?" House tried yelling but nothing came out.

"Cameron, get up!" again nothing as he pushed against her. He reached for her arm and shoved it off of him then propped himself up on his elbows.

He looked at his right leg and there it was, mangled and crushed. His jeans were torn and smeared with oil and road grime. Blood was slowly draining out into a dark, crimson pool on the stainless steel table.

Wilson appeared with no warning over Fulton's shoulder, "I'm sorry House, but there's nothing we can do."

House looked over at Cameron and wondered how in the hell she could sleep through all of this when he felt the saw first yank and twist at his jeans. Then it began to burn the first few layers of his skin and thigh muscle.

House yelled out in pain. He fell back onto his pillow and thrashed to the side trying to escape before they cut his god damned leg off!

"Damn it Cameron, get up!"

House now felt the vibration of the saw snagging on his bone.

"House?" He recognized Cameron's voice but it didn't stop what was happening.

She hovered over him, "House…what's wrong?"

"What's wrong?! That bastard is cutting my damn leg off. That's what's wrong!" House tried hard to force the words out but they felt muted and sluggish.

"You're dreaming…wake up," Cameron's hand returned to his chest then softly to his cheek, "You're soaked." Her tone sounded confused but it was obvious to him what was going on. Why couldn't she see what was happening? Why wasn't she stopping it?

Suddenly, a bright light blinded him then his eyes slowly adjusted revealing only Cameron who was hovering directly above him. Everyone else had disappeared. He felt her hand brush across his forehead then through his wet hair, "You're only dreaming, House. It's okay."

"My leg..." he managed in a tired slur.

"Your leg is fine," he heard her say as a bolt of pain hit him. House barely managed to hold back a scream and clenched his jaw, trying to ride it out and hide it from Cameron. But as his entire body tensed he knew that would be impossible. The pain started as a jab to his infarction site then sent radiating waves of heated pain through the rest of his leg and beyond. Pulsing one shot after another.

He felt Cameron's eyes on him then she quickly climbed out of bed.

House didn't catch what she mumbled as she threw on the t-shirt he'd tossed to the side of the bed. She grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen off of the nightstand and shook some out in her palm. She put her cupped hand in front of House, "Take these."

House just laughed desperately between breaths and refused her offer, "Ibuprofen isn't gonna touch this." He held his breath again and squeezed his eyes shut as another bolt surged through his body. His thigh felt like it was on fire. He sat up to grab the burning area but there was nothing to grab. He fell onto his right side and curled himself into the fetal position. His heart was beating out of his chest. He fought back the urge to expel the contents of his stomach onto the floor beside him.

"At least try it," Cameron's voice was calm but controlled. She held her hand out in front of him again. House clumsily grabbed for the pills and downed them dry, having no idea how many he swallowed. Once Cameron left the room, he took a quick mental inventory of his apartment. Surely there was one stash of Vicodin that he'd missed when he removed it all after his detox. There had to be some desperate hiding place that he'd forgotten. There just had to be. Unfortunately, he'd sent his Morphine home with Cameron months ago. He briefly wondered if she'd disposed of it, assuming she knew what was in the locked metal box. His desire for it raged through his body on the heels of another surge of pain.

Cameron returned and sat on the side of his bed. She gently stroked his face and neck with a cold wet cloth. With her other hand, she punched on the numbers of her phone.

"Who are you calling?" House mumbled.

"Fulton. Something isn't right."

"Hang on," House moaned. Cameron stopped dialing and looked at him.

"You know that box I sent home with you?" House cringed while more pain passed, "long time ago," he breathed out through clenched teeth.

"Yeah," Cameron answered hesitantly.

"Still have it?" he looked up at her through one squinted eye.

"No," she answered definitively, "it was locked anyway. What was in it?"

"I still have the key," House closed his eyes and buried his face back in his pillow, "sure you don't have it?"

God, he was trying not to sound pathetic. But there wasn't much he could control, especially the stabbing pains that were continuing to shoot through the lower right half of his body, even though most of it wasn't there anymore.

"I'm sure," Cameron paused for a moment before she continued pressing in the phone number.

"Go in my closet...check my coat pockets," House knew there had to be a Vicodin bottle hiding in a long forgotten jacket from months back.

"What am I looking for," Cameron asked but she already knew the answer.

House just grunted out a sarcastic laugh at her but couldn't meet her eyes. He felt the sweat rolling down his face then Cameron wiped it away again, "I'm not going to let you do this."

"Do what?" House regretted those words as soon as they came out.

"You know what," Cameron's voice remained calm.

"My pain is tipping the scale here, Cameron," he finally looked up at her to see her reaction.

"Please…" House uttered quietly before holding back another surge of pain.

"I can't, House. I'm sorry."

He could see the determination on her face, although the quiver that was riding on her words was calling her a liar.

"Damn it, Cameron!" his voice was turning desperate. Hell, he _passed_ desperate fifteen minutes ago. He fumbled for her hand and grabbed her wrist.

"We both knew this would happen sooner or later…I need…my damn Vicodin." House coughed finding it harder and harder to speak, especially with any kind of urgency.

"No," Cameron said sternly shaking herself free from him. She returned her attention to the phone and stood up. Eyeing his crutches, Cameron picked them up and moved them away from his reach as she walked out of the room.

'Bitch' involuntarily went through his mind but he also heard it slip out under his breath. He closed his eyes and immediately felt like shit for saying it.

House's body was beginning to ache and cramp even between episodes from the tension the pain was causing. The moment he tried to relax another unbearable wave crashed over him.

He lay in the quiet of his room. Words couldn't describe the pain or the feeling of helplessness. There was nothing he could do to stop it. It was relentless. Hell, he couldn't even get himself out of his bed. Not that he wanted to. The last thing he wanted to do was move and provoke the demon that had returned.

So this is the way it would always be for him. How many times was he going to allow himself to flirt with a little happiness just to be knocked on his ass again? The contrast between just twelve hours ago and now was cruel at best and it was no one's fault but his own for buying into it. Now here he was, completely helpless and at someone else's mercy. He was unsure about how he felt knowing that the 'someone else' was Cameron. But all those deliberations were squelched once again by another jolt of sadistic pain.

Cameron paced in the living room, waiting for the operator to pick up the phone. Finally on the fourth ring she heard the phone click, "Princeton Plainsboro Teach…"

"This is Dr Cameron," she interrupted, "I need Dr Michael Fulton's personal cell number. Quickly. Please."

"Yes, hold just a second." It seemed more like several minutes before the operator returned. All Cameron could concentrate on was House lying in there. She wanted to stop his pain, more than anything. But not at the expense of all the progress he'd made; seven months of being clean, and not after all the progress _they_ had made. Things were too good for them now. Regardless, she loved him too much to let him do this to himself, and helping him do it was completely out of the question.

Hearing House ask for his pills yanked Cameron out of a place of complacency that she had fallen into over the past few months. Had this happened six…even three months ago, she would have been prepared for it. She had been expecting it. But somewhere along the way she'd stopped watching for it. She'd almost forgotten he was an addict. Hearing him so despairingly ask for help and seeing him in this much pain again was almost more than she could handle. Now it was all she could do to hold herself together.

Cameron felt so alone, standing in the darkness of the living room, waiting for the operator to return.

"Dr Cameron?" she felt a certain amount of relief as she grasped for the help on the other end of the line.

"Yes?" she answered quickly.

"Here it is. Can you write this down?"

"Yeah," Cameron reached for the pen lying on the coffee table and scribbled the number down on top of the pizza box left from dinner.

"Got it."

"I'm going to put a page through to him, too. What number should I have him call?"

She gave the operator the number and hung up after thanking her.

Cameron's hands shook as she quickly punched in Fulton's number and started pacing again. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her mind was bouncing from one thought to another. When it went to voicemail, she ended the call and hit redial.

"C'mon…" she mumbled walking back into the bedroom to check on House. She sat down next to him again and wiped more beads of sweat from his face. He didn't acknowledge her. He just lay there, curled on his side, one hand gripping at his thigh. She ran the wet cloth that wasn't so cool anymore down his bare back and stood up and left the room when Fulton finally answered.

"Dr Fulton. It's Dr Cameron. House woke up in intense pain about twenty minutes ago." Cameron paused waiting for him to respond but when he didn't she pressed on, "We need to do something for him…now."

"Where is it coming from, do you know?" He finally asked.

"I'm pretty sure it's phantom pain, he was reaching for the part of his leg that isn't there anymore. I gave him eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen about fifteen minutes ago."

"Yeah, that'll help but I doubt it will do much for him. Where do you want me to call in the prescription?"

"What is it?" Cameron stopped pacing, worried that at this time of the night and with Fulton being new on staff, he might not remember that House and opiates could no longer play nicely together.

"Gabapentin."

Cameron quickly tried to recall anything she knew about the drug, but nothing was coming to her. She could hardly think of anything beyond House lying just feet from her in pain.

"It's often used to relieve neuropathic pain. There are several medications that have been proven to help some people with phantom pain but there is nothing available specifically for it. This one has a low report of side effects. We'll try it first and go from there."

"Okay."

"Where is he on the pain scale?"

"He indicated a ten but he's talking, so I'd say it's probably a nine."

"Really about the only thing you can do for him now is massage his stump or apply some heat. Do both if you can. Get the circulation moving. Or get him into a hot bath if that's possible. If he feels this happening again, get him into a hot bath before it gets too intense. The Gabapentin isn't going to take effect immediately but I would get it in him as soon as you can. The only medication that will help him immediately, I'm not sure you want to give to him."

"No," Cameron agreed assuming he meant some type of narcotic.

"There's a CVS about three blocks from here." Cameron quickly ticked off the logistics of how she was going to get the scrip for House because there was no way she was leaving him. If she had to wait until morning, she would, especially if it wasn't going to help him tonight.

She thought about the night before and earlier that day, "Is there anything he could have done to cause this?" Cameron tried rationalizing that it was a perfectly innocent question but her emotions were all over the place.

"No, don't worry, Dr Cameron. I'm sure you know this is very normal for amputation patients. I suspect Dr House has been having signs all along but he refused to admit anything to me, so I'm not surprised. We'll try the Gabapentin and if that doesn't work, there are several other options. Non-addictive ones."

"Thank you," Cameron said sincerely not waiting for his response before she flipped the phone closed.

She opened it again to make one more call. She went into the bathroom and ran the cloth under cool water to refresh it while she continued to hold the phone between her ear and shoulder.

"Wilson. Hey…it's Cameron."

"What's up?" Wilson asked tiredly but she detected the concern in his voice. Being three in the morning probably had something to do with that.

"House woke up in pain a while ago. I talked to Fulton and he's called something into the CVS down the street."

Before Cameron could say anymore, she heard shuffling noises on Wilson's end of the line, "I'll pick it up and be right over."

"Hang on…" this time she was the one that was cut off before she could finish her sentence, but she was calmed by the idea that Wilson was on his way.

Cameron took a deep breath and tried to relax. She walked to the front door and unlocked it then returned to the bedroom. She sat down beside him again and gently wiped his face with the cold cloth making him flinch.

He had kicked off the blanket so she pulled them back up covering the lower half of his body, trying to get his leg warm.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit…" he mumbled then grimaced and held his breath.

"Still a ten?"

"Oh yeah," he grunted, leaving no doubt in Cameron's mind that some damn number didn't matter.

"Fulton's calling something in and Wilson's picking it up, but it's not going to help you right away."

"What is it?" House looked up and questioned her with pain in his expression.

"Gabapentin."

House just closed his eyes and put his face back into his pillow.

"You know you could stop," House hitched his breath, riding out another assault on his severed nerves. "You could stop my pain for good if you really wanted to," House mumbled as he turned to stare directly at Cameron just for a moment, his eyes casting a pained expression, making it that much more difficult to deny him the relief he so desperately wanted. But he couldn't hold onto her eyes and turned his face back to his pillow.

Cameron closed her eyes and felt sick to her stomach.

"One call to the drug store…Wilson could pick it up for me," House's voice was unsure but his tone didn't matter. The words alone were stabbing at Cameron's heart and a she felt a tear escape her eye and stream down her face. Damn it, she knew she could stop his pain but she also knew what the consequences of that would be for him and for them.

For all the words she wanted to say, and as hard as she fought her emotions from spilling out all over him, she managed a calm and certain 'no'. That was all it took. She saw the resignation on his face then another shot of pain. Cameron felt another tear follow the path of the previous one.

She needed to find a way to stop his pain and she only had one option now. It hadn't been more than a few days since House had begun to relax whenever she came near his leg. Especially when nothing came between it and her like the safety and protection of his prosthesis or a pair of jeans. His asking her to touch it had felt more like a formality than anything else, and this wouldn't just be her lying beside it or brushing up against it in her sleep or during sex. She was going to have to touch it intentionally…intimately. She was afraid of how House was going to react, or if he was going to let her at all - especially in his condition. She'd relieved the discomfort in his thigh more times than she could recall. Touching him while he was in this much pain would be different. Cameron knew and understood how private his pain was.

She hesitated a few moments more then finally just put it out there to see how he would respond. "He said about the only thing we can do right now is massage your leg and apply heat to get the circulation going."

She waited, hoping that he would go ahead and roll over letting her know he was willing to let her but he didn't. She put her hand on his hip and tried again, "House…" He didn't respond.

Seeing the sweat starting to collect on his face again, she leaned over and gently stroked him. She dragged the cold cloth down his neck and back again. She watched another wave of pain come, and linger…then finally pass. She simply couldn't imagine what he was going through, and each episode got harder and harder to watch, if that were possible.

Cameron was wired to help people. When it came to those she loved, that desire seemed to grow exponentially. The urge to help him was boiling and soon she feared she wasn't going to be able to control it. Cameron had never felt this way before – not this strongly.

She put her hand back on his hip, a little stronger this time, "House," she said with more authority. "We don't have any other options here. You've got to let me do this."

Still nothing. She watched him holding his breath then expelling it almost hesitantly. His eyes were closed tight but she saw his head nod slightly then stop.

"Okay?"

House nodded again, pushing back more pain and grabbing at his leg.

She stood up and put her right hand on his hip and her left on his shoulder. A trail of breathy vulgarities escaped his clenched jaw as Cameron carefully moved him fully onto his back.

"I'm sorry, House," she said quietly resting her hand on his chest, feeling his heart pounding just under the surface. She picked up the wet cloth and took it to the bathroom to cool it again. When she returned she draped it across his forehead.

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling while Cameron tried adjusting the sheet and blanket which were now twisted around his lower body. Her medical training and understanding of phantom pain told her that touching his leg wouldn't cause him any more discomfort, but everything inside her resisted.

She carefully sat back down beside him and lifted the side of the sheet. She rested her hand quietly on his leg, watching closely for his reaction. She pushed the leg of his boxer briefs up and away from his incision then placed both hands on the end of his leg. She started squeezing it gently, her eyes not moving from his face. Slowly she began massaging a little more firmly wondering how long this was going to take. Cameron closed her eyes and felt her emotion rising but she trapped it in her throat and swallowed it back down.

She continued rubbing…and watching…but the tension in his face and the rest of his body didn't show any signs of letting up. She began to wonder if this was going to work at all. Time was an enigma as Cameron watched the clock on the nightstand tick away the minutes, each pause between the numbers clicking over feeling longer and longer.

"How do you feel?" Cameron asked quietly. She didn't need to hear his answer, she could see it right in front of her. His eyes were closed, fists gripping at the sheets and his jaw clenched like a vice. Cameron felt another tear start to swell big enough to escape the safety of her eye and she dipped her face down to her shoulder attempting to wipe it dry on the t-shirt she was wearing. If this didn't work she honestly didn't know what she was going to do. She hated putting him through this. Irrationally she began to fear that Vicodin would be his only answer.

She desperately continued to rub his leg, moving to different areas, wondering if there was something specific she wasn't doing right. She simply had to make this work. She moved from the sides to the end and behind the back of his leg. She tried concentrating specifically on his incisions then on the surrounding muscle.

The wait was unbearable but House's reaction told her unbearable wasn't even close to describing what he was feeling. She felt his skin warming under her touch as she continued following a pattern now that was hitting all the areas of his injury. She glanced from his face to the clock then back again; twenty minutes, but it felt much longer to her.

"House?" Cameron wanted him to answer her, to say…something.

He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling then took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Is this helping at all?"

"Yeah…" he breathed out in a whisper and closed his eyes again.

A rush of relief poured over Cameron and she felt the tears break free from her eyes and start to slowly stream down her face, each one following the path of the previous one. One of them rolling past the crease at the side of her nose and dripping towards her mouth. Cameron licked her lip and tasted the saltiness then felt another one following close behind.

She wanted to wipe her face but she held onto House's leg like it was his lifeline, willing to risk him seeing how emotional this was for her. Three months ago, she would have fought much harder to hide her concern for him but to hell with it now. House was just going to have to learn to deal with it.

Cameron noticed his incidents growing slightly further apart, but the intensity wasn't relenting. After the next one passed, he opened his eyes and looked at her. Cameron knew she wasn't a graceful crier. Some people were and some people where not, and she was definitely in the 'were not' category. Her lips get puffy and her eyes and nose turn red. She knew immediately by his reaction that she couldn't hide any of it.

He closed his eyes again, let go of the sheets and folded his arms over his eyes. Cameron lifted her shoulder to her face again then sniffed as politely and discreetly as she could.

Soon she heard the front door open and Wilson stepped hesitantly into the doorway of the bedroom. Cameron looked over at him and felt a weak smile spread across her lips. She tried wiping her face on her shoulder again, feeling a little embarrassed at her loss of composure. There was understanding in Wilson's crooked smile as he walked closer to the bed.

He was dressed in a pair of sweats and a wrinkled t-shirt that were grossly mismatched. He'd obviously tried straightening his bed-head on the drive over. The look was very unlike Wilson, but his being there wasn't.

The creaking of the floorboards made House open his eyes, slightly lifting his head to look at Wilson. When he saw him there, he dropped his head back to his pillow and closed his eyes again and grumped, "Took you long enough."

"Yeah, sorry…traffic at four in the morning is a real bitch," he smiled again at Cameron.

Later she would feel slightly horrified knowing that she was sitting on House's bed in a t-shirt and underwear with her hands under the blankets massaging some part of House's lower body with his friend in the room. Fortunately, Wilson had the maturity to ignore it.

Wilson opened the bag and pulled out the bottle. He quickly read the dosage instructions then shook one pill out into his hand. He walked to the kitchen then returned with a glass of water.

"Here you go," Wilson offered him the medication.

"What is it?" House asked. Cameron could see just a glimmer of hope in his face.

"Gabapentin," Wilson answered simply, assuming he was craving something stronger.

House took the pill and quickly chased it with a mouthful of water before resting his head back on the pillow. His body tensed as it reacted to yet another bolt of pain, his hands gripping and pulling at the sheets again.

"Son of a bitch," he breathed out as the pain slowly released him. Wilson knew his friend and he could sense him struggling to keep his reactions bottled inside. Cameron looked over at him as he ran a tired hand through his hair and watched House relax once more.

"Is there anything I can do?" he turned to Cameron.

"There's a heating pad in the hall closet."

Wilson left the room and when he returned he plugged the heating pad in behind the nightstand then placed it across House's stomach. He stood quietly and helplessly by House's bed for a moment before finally sitting down on the floor and leaning his back against the dresser.

"Thanks Wilson," Cameron's sincere eyes lingered on him but he could see the concern in her eyes.

It had been months since Wilson had seen House in this much pain. No, it had probably been more than months. The last time he recalled it being this bad was after the infarction while House continued to resist treatment. Since then the Vicodin had always at least taken the edge off. Even on the rare occasion that House would experience a mild amount of detoxing, it wasn't this severe.

He watched Cameron lift the blankets and lay the heating pad over most of his leg, still exposing the end while she continued to rub it. He watched them in silence while he tried pushing a selfish and uncomfortable feeling from his mind. He rested his head against the hard and uneven wood of the dresser drawers and took a slow and deep breath.

Wilson sat and witnessed the depth of their relationship, something he had only been able to speculate about. House was clearly showing a significant level of trust in her. Although he knew things were going well for them he had no idea how well until now.

For the first time in a long time, Wilson had to consider the possibility that his friend no longer needed him. Well, he supposed he still needed him on some level but it would be different now. He struggled to believe that he was okay with that, but he couldn't seem to shake that nagging feeling in the back of his mind telling him otherwise. He was genuinely happy to see that House had found another person he could trust and rely on but he just hadn't expected the little twinge of emptiness that it would leave him with.

"This Gabapentin isn't going to do shit," House groaned on the heels of another painful episode.

"Fulton said it probably wouldn't right away," Cameron answered him, continuing to work at his leg.

Wilson looked at Cameron and met her eyes as she explained, "If this doesn't work we'll try something else."

Remembering the days just before House's detox made Wilson question what he might have done if he was the one House was relying on now, but he knew the likelihood of it ending in a prescription for Vidocin. He had always come to him for pain relief and Wilson had always given it to him.

House had Cameron now, and Wilson had…well, Kimberly. It seemed oddly twisted to feel like a miniature House was sitting on Wilson's shoulder giving him relationship advice. He'd been right in insinuating that Kimberly was nothing more than a fling - one that served to stroke his ego and nothing more. Nothing like what he was witnessing live and in true color right in front of him. For the first time in a long time, hell since he could remember, despite the current circumstances, he felt envy when he looked at his friend.

Wilson sat and watched, trying to convince himself that his nerves were simply frazzled and irrational in the midst of what was going on. Soon he felt his eyes growing heavy. He occasionally gave into the temptation and slipped in and out of sleep. He wondered how long he should stick around. He couldn't imagine he'd be needed for anything more.

Cameron continued working on House's leg in silence. She watched waves of pain come and go while House fought them one at a time. She was seeing progress. It was slow, but at least something was working. She occasionally caught Wilson's nodding head out of the corner of her eye then she would glace at House's best friend sitting dutifully by.

It startled Cameron when she heard Wilson's sleepy voice, "Are you guys going to be okay?"

"I think so," Cameron answered quietly, wondering if House had managed to doze off.

"He hasn't had any pain in probably thirty minutes and even that one seemed less intense. I think he's asleep."

"I've been asleep that long?" Wilson glanced at his watch, "I'm sorry…a lot of help I was."

"You were more help than you realize," Cameron answered giving him a thoughtful look. When she smiled she felt the dried teary residue pulling at her skin.

"You need anything else?" he groaned as he lifted himself off of the hard floor.

"No, Wilson. Thank you," she said sincerely.

"Sure," he answered as he dug into the pocket of his sweatpants for his car keys.

"Call me tomorrow," he said to Cameron as he walked out the door then seconds later left the apartment.

Cameron had kept her hands moving over House's leg for what felt like hours now. She looked at the clock; 5:37am and the first hints of daylight were starting to filter through the blinds. She looked over at House and saw him peer at her through one tired eye, "Is he finally gone?"

She laughed quietly, finally feeling a little relief, "Yes. I thought you were asleep."

"He's so damn needy," House said resting his arm across his forehead.

"He cares about you."

House just grunted and closed his eyes again.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like a train ran through my bedroom," he said quietly.

"I'm sure. How about the pain?"

"Better," he answered simply.

"Wanna try some more ibuprofen?" Cameron asked but House didn't reply.

"Can you reach it or do you want me to?"

House finally lifted his arm from his eyes and reached for the nightstand, "I got it."

"You can't do that forever you know," he mumbled around a dose of pills lying on the back of his tongue before he swallowed them dry. When they didn't go down as well as he hoped, he reached for the glass of water still sitting by his bed.

"I know. But I'm afraid of what will happen if I let go," she answered honestly.

"Then don't," House admitted quietly. He rested his head back on his pillow and closed his eyes again. She continued rubbing his leg until she felt herself dozing off and her hands stopping just long enough for her to wake up and start again. There was no way of telling if another wave of pain would hit him, but he was right, she couldn't do this forever. She wrapped his leg with the heating pad and waited to make sure when she let go of him the pain didn't return. When it didn't, she climbed back into her side of the bed. She lifted his arm and shuffled up close to him. He wrapped his arm hesitantly around her.

"If you feel that getting any worse at all, wake me up, okay?"

"Right…" House laughed out weakly.

She lay there and promised herself never to mention his desire to use again. Vicodin or whatever the hell was in that locked box he had given her long ago. Cameron could only speculate, but it had to be something damn strong for House to be hiding it. She did still have it. She happened to come across it while going through her things that day but she decided, whatever it was, it was going out with the garbage the next time she had the chance.

"Cameron?" House said quietly, wondering what she was thinking or if she was asleep.

"What?"

House's words were lodged so tightly in his throat he couldn't break them free. Everything fell quiet for a while as his unspoken apology just hung in the room.

Cameron rested her hand quietly on his chest and whispered, "I'm just glad I was here."

"Me too," he said as he managed to push just far enough past his pride…no, his embarrassment to admit that he was certain how this night would have ended without her, high and alone with dangerous amounts of opiates coursing through his veins. His mind refused to linger there. House knew he was an addict, he'd even admitted to it once or twice. But he never felt so much like one as he did then, thinking about the certain level of hell that he'd just put her though.

He wanted to apologize. He was sorry for trying to manipulate her and sorry that he couldn't take it back. He was sorry that he wasn't the only one that had to fight his addiction. As long as they were together, she would have to fight it too. It pained him to think that she now carried that burden simply by association.

Now Cameron was being typical Cameron and quietly letting his consequences dissipate along with the darkness. If he wanted to say it, he had to find the courage to say it now, knowing that she would likely never speak of what happened again. She always accepted his actions and never required the words but she deserved more than that.

House fought with his emotions a few minutes more until he finally let it go, "I'm sorry, Cameron"

"I know you are…it's okay," she said quietly, reaching across him and holding him a little tighter, "let's just get some sleep."


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks to bmax67 and jesmel for all their help on this story. I don't think I've mentioned their names here yet - sorry!! But I'm terribly endebted to both of them.

And to everyone who has taken the time to comment on this story - thank you!!!! And to those who have alerted it, etc...I hope you have enjoyed it.

* * *

Chapter 18 - Final

Cameron dutifully tucked her hair behind her ears before standing up and heading towards the conference room for more coffee. She was greeted with a cheerful good morning by the new fellow House had hired some three months back. Of course it had taken him a month to decide on anyone but he'd settled for a Duke University grad who'd finished tenth in his class and specialized in cerebrovascular medicine. Cameron figured it wasn't by chance that he was also gay. Of course House boasted afterwards that he had deduced his sexual orientation inside of the first thirty seconds of his interview. Cameron assumed it had been a personally strategic move on House's part because there had been nothing too noteworthy about his CV. She thought it was a silly, but she still got a little flutter in her tummy at the idea of House considering the extra bit of insurance making it worth hiring him anyway.

"Good morning, Mo," Cameron returned pleasantly. They'd long since dropped the unnecessary syllables from Modzelewski. He was short and had a slender build. With a name like Modzelewski he shouldn't have looked native but Cameron had come to know him well enough to learn that his mother was full Cherokee while his father was half Polish. He was energetic yet seemed to have a good sense for keeping his enthusiasm at a level just low enough not to annoy House anymore than was humanly possible. He was still obviously reeling at the opportunity for the fellowship even after three months of House's abuse. He had fit into the team…well, what was left of it, regardless of whether House would ever admit it.

She poured her coffee then returned to her desk and put her glasses on. She clicked opened her inbox and as the emails started to filter in she became aware of the date for the first time that day, one more week and House will have been clean for a year. She had made a mental note that it was coming but with their new patient, she'd been distracted enough to forget about it until now. Although there'd never been a defining moment when Cameron would consider herself to be 'with' House, September nineteenth held a little bit more sentiment for her because it was when they had really moved past just being work colleagues and into new territory.

As the emails filed in, she noticed one from Chase scrolling up the monitor. She opened it and smiled as she read about how he was adjusting to his new job. Frustrated with Cuddy jerking him from department to department and having to serve too much clinic duty, he'd taken a well-deserved vacation back to Australia and ended up staying with a very impressive job offer. Cameron was happy for him and she figured House didn't really care one way or the other.

Getting back to work had reintroduced some much-needed structure back into their days. The time off to heal both physically and emotionally, separately and together, had served its purpose. But by the time they had come back to work, both were itching to practice the profession that was so much a part of who they were.

* * *

House sat down at his desk, took a sip of his coffee and set the mug down. He turned to his computer and watched his inbox get cluttered with more crap. All but one. An evil grin slid across his face to see the bimonthly Darwin Awards newsletter appear and he took no time opening it and clicking on the link. Reading tales from the shallow end of the gene pool giving further proof that the Tree of Life is self-pruning always made for a good start to the day, it rivaled coffee, especially now.

Mo, the new fellow, had taken it upon himself to relieve Cameron of her coffee-making duties and she had seemed happy about that. Actually, the quality hadn't really suffered like he claimed it had, but that didn't stop House from whining about it occasionally. The purpose was two-fold: Cameron would smile and House always liked that, and Mo would get snippy which he enjoyed almost as much. House had more fun toying with a new fellow than a cat had toying with a mouse just before the kill.

He had seen some pretty impressive candidates during his first month back but his criteria had changed since the last time he hired on new blood. This time he wanted head shots of the male applicants, not the female ones. When Cuddy didn't humor his request, he settled for seeing them one at a time until he found one that he knew A, would not totally annoy the shit out of him and B, likely wouldn't try to paw at Cameron. Not that she couldn't handle herself quite adequately, House just didn't need the hassle.

House took a final sip of his coffee then stood up and grabbed his duffel. He quickly glanced over his shoulder then opened the bottom drawer to the filing cabinet and grabbed a handful of clothes, stuffing them in the bag. House had had the good fortune of catching two of the night cleaning staff having sex on Wilson's couch. Now he enjoyed an endless supply of kiss ass which for now included secret laundering services. It wouldn't have been near as fun but could have been just as easy to let Cameron throw his sweaty socks, shorts and shirt into the laundry with the rest of the clothes. Of course then he'd have to give himself up by explaining how soaking in the whirlpool was generating sweaty gym clothes.

Standing up gave him another painful reminder of the evening he'd spent with Wilson at the basketball court. House had come away the winner but he was paying for it now. Soaking instead of working on his running was definitely what he needed. So he tossed the clothes back in the drawer and grabbed his trunks instead and headed for rehab.

* * *

Cameron looked up and saw House walk out the door of his office with his duffel hooked over his shoulder. She watched through the various layers of glass walls as he disappeared down the hall. His gait was practically normal now. If she didn't know what was hidden under the right leg of his jeans, nothing about his walk would make her take notice. Of course she knew, so she could still see the slight hitch on his right side.

House had found a new and Cuddy-proof way of getting out of work in the mornings. Every day, shortly after arriving, he'd leave just like he had that morning and often give orders from his cell while he soaked in the whirlpool over in the rehab wing. He'd even managed to get Fulton to write him a prescription for it so he could annoy Cuddy, telling her it was 'medically necessary'. Not that it mattered where he was, he was never in the room with the patient so who the hell cared if he was in his office, in the rehab wing or home in bed with the pillow over his face. That was his argument anyway. The only thing missing was a virtual whiteboard. The tangible one still standing in the conference room would have to do but he hadn't yet allowed Mo to touch his markers. That was strictly Cameron's job.

If working this way allowed House to soak and helped to keep his phantom pain at bay, Cameron was all for it. Never again did she want to live through a night like that. Moreover, never again did she want to see House experience so much pain that it forced him to stare down his addiction. She knew being around narcotics on a daily basis even on a good day had to be difficult for him, and so far the Gabapentin to fend off his phantom pain had made House's 'good days' the norm.

Cameron spotted Wilson gingerly walking down the hall towards House's office. She pulled off her glasses and smiled curiously at him when he tried to walk nonchalantly by.

"You just missed him," Cameron yelled as he passed her door.

Wilson carefully turned and with his expression made it clear to Cameron that he was hoping she had been distracted enough to miss him altogether.

"I'm sure he'll be by to gloat later on," he grunted out as he turned and started to walk away.

"Wilson," Cameron called after him.

He paused and she could see his shoulders sink before he turned around and smiled at her, knowing there wasn't any hiding it now.

"Little too much basketball last night?" she was trying hard not to snicker too obnoxiously.

"Na, I'm good," Wilson tried shrugging it off as he turned and staggered gingerly away. Cameron grinned to his back and let him escape with most of his pride still intact. House hadn't been able to keep the details of his and Wilson's evening from her so Cameron was well aware of why he was having so much trouble getting around.

Picking up regular games of one on one had been among the first things House and Wilson had done after House became confident enough with his leg. House had found great pleasure in sharing with her that Wilson had pulled his back trying to win the game with a cocky reverse lay-up. Even in Wilson's sedentary condition, he'd managed to play circles around House in the beginning but House quickly closed the gap.

Cameron hadn't experienced Wilson and House's friendship in the earlier years but the way it was now was the way she always imagined it had been before the infarction. Especially in the nature of the things they did. They were no longer restricted to beer and ESPN on the couch, table football or foosball in the doctors' lounge. All their options were open to them again, minus the humbling restrictions _both_ of them were forced to come to grips with having managed to age over the past seven years.

* * *

House unlocked the apartment door while Cameron picked up today's mail.

"Wilson stopped by the office this morning," she chuckled, dropping the backpack onto the couch.

"The sorry bastard ended up going home early," House laughed his response as he walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Cameron kicked off her shoes and carried them into the bedroom. Leaving a pile of clothes on the bed, she traded them for something more comfortable. Late in the day, they'd attempted a new treatment for their patient and so far he was holding his own. Working and living together was something Cameron had been a little skeptical about but for all the times they lived and breathed a case while in the middle of one, they were that far removed from the hospital when they didn't have a patient. She was ready for a little distance, at least for a couple of days.

She opened the fridge and stared mindlessly at the various half-eaten meals sealed in plastic storage containers, most of which likely had something less than desirable growing on and around it by now. She briefly wondered if House had some preconceived notion that asking her to move in would magically turn her into some kind of homemaker. She snickered to herself and shoved those thoughts out of her mind when she saw the bacon she'd forgot she'd bought to fix BLTs with the fresh tomatoes Mo had brought in from his garden. This was as domestic as it was going to get.

"You're cooking?" Cameron heard House say from the living room.

"Yeah," she laughed and turned to smile at him. She was surprised to see him sitting on the couch in a pair of sweatpants, leaning over and lacing up an old pair of running shoes. A little shot of disappointment surprised her so she asked, "You doing something with Wilson tonight?"

He laughed, "I'm sure Wilson is passed out on Zanaflex about now."

Cameron watched him for a minute, hoping to learn where he was headed but when he didn't offer any more information, she turned her attention back to the bacon frying in the skillet. Once it was crispy, she lifted it out of the pan and left it to drain on a paper towel lying on the counter. She grabbed two pieces of sandwich bread and turned to House but he was gone. She walked curiously into the living room then heard him shuffling around in the bedroom. She leaned against the door, bread still in hand, "What are you looking for?"

"Nothing," he dismissed her.

"Do you want a BLT?" she asked, indicating to the bread.

"Later?" he turned to her and lifted his eyebrows, almost asking for permission.

"Sure," she said confused, "where are you going?"

"I thought I might try to take a run," he finally answered pulling an old sweatshirt over his head.

Cameron smiled at him brightly and realized the look on her face had to be pathetically goofy when he looked up at her and scoffed sarcastically.

"I'll just wait and eat with you then," she turned towards the kitchen.

"Don't you want to come?" he asked to her back.

"Na, it's okay," she said from the kitchen. Of course she wanted to but she also wanted him to know it was fine with her if he wanted to give it a go on his own, too.

House leaned against the fridge holding what he'd been digging for, her running shoes. She wasn't sure she'd ever unpacked them, and from the amount of digging he had to do to find them, she figured she probably hadn't.

"C'mon," he tempted her.

"I'm _completely_ out of shape," she warned as she took the shoes out of his hand and tossed them on the couch. She returned to the bedroom and pulled on a sweatshirt but decided to go with the shorts she'd changed into earlier. House was leaning into the front door with two iPods in his hand, stretching out his left hamstring. She laced up her shoes, decided against a stretch of her own, and took her iPod from him and left it on the table by the door.

"You're going to regret that," he snickered.

"The iPod or the stretch?"

"Both?" he gave her a crooked grin and opened the door.

"Nah, let's go," she walked out ahead of him. Cameron suspected being his first time running with his prosthetic that it would be a quick trip around the block and not much more than that. As soon as they reached the sidewalk, House took off in a slow and hesitant jog. Cameron quickly came beside him and matched his pace. House unwound the wires from his iPod and placed the speakers in his ears before turning it on and adjusting the volume.

"What are you listening to?" Cameron asked.

"I told you to bring your own," he answered, keeping his eyes forward and ignoring her question.

To the corner, a left-hand turn, and two blocks down the street was all it took for Cameron to start feeling her breathing become a little laborious. House, however, was showing no signs of tiring. She looked at him questioningly but he didn't return her glance. He only picked up the pace and Cameron chuckled pessimistically while she struggled to stay at his side.

Three more blocks then a right-hand turn towards the park and Cameron's stitch in her side was turning into more of a pain. They were getting farther and farther from their apartment and she knew she maybe had two blocks left in her, at best. When she reached the park entrance she finally slowed her jog to a walk and propped her hands on her hips, trying to catch her breath. House didn't stop and he didn't look back. Cameron watched him jog the perimeter of the small community area then head back in her direction. His pace was steady but his steps were less smooth than his walk. This hitch in his right side was clearly noticeable but who the hell cared. House was running again.

Cameron felt goose bumps rise on her skin as she watched him run for the first time in over a year. After the Ketamine, the running, and having it taken away from him, she honestly thought this was something that House would never experience again.

A crooked smile crept up one side of her face and she felt another surge of chills go through her. She had hoped he would try running again with his new leg but when he hadn't given her any indication that he was, she'd decided to let him work it out on his own. She knew that as much as he loved it, it had to be something that passed through his mind on a daily basis. Especially since his prosthetic had given him his mobility back - pain-free mobility at that.

As he ran up to her, Cameron assumed he'd stop but when he ran straight by, ignoring her, she just laughed at him.

"House?" She shrugged her shoulders and lifted her hands questioningly. He made another lap around the park and headed her direction one more time. This time she greeted him with an unconvincing pissed look on her face.

"C'mon Cameron…I'm twice your age," he smirked as he jogged by her yet again.

Cameron grinned having heard that somewhere before and ran to catch up with him then slowed her pace to his, managing to make it all the way around the park; her first lap, his third. When they returned to the entrance, she grabbed his arm and slowed them both down to a stop. He complied and bent forward, resting his hands on his knees while he caught his breath.

"Where the hell did that come from?" Cameron laughed between gasps of air.

"What?" still bent over, he looked up at her and grinned and he pulled the speakers out of his ears.

Cameron exaggerated a shrug and silently re-emphasized her question as he just looked towards the sidewalk and gave a breathy laugh.

"You're such a smart ass," she accused as she gave him a gentle shove in the arm, just enough to knock him off balance. "You brought me out here just to do that to me, didn't you?"

"Maybe," he caught himself and hitched his eyebrows at her, confirming her accusation.

"So when…?" Cameron started to question him then a knowing grin slid across her mouth, "soaking, my ass," she chuckled. Cameron felt completely gullible thinking back on the few times she'd actually gone _looking_ for him at the whirlpool and came up empty. It never once occurred to her that he was up to something like this. She just smiled to herself and shook her head at the notion that trying to stay one step ahead of House would always be a futile effort.

"Maybe now I can get these few extra pounds off that I've gained after all the crap you make me eat," she laughed, patting her backside.

"Nnaa…I like it," House said with a little growl in his tone, straightening up and putting his hands on his hips, still trying to regulate his breathing.

"The crap or the extra pounds?" she knew her glare was unconvincing as she dared him to answer.

"Both?" he answered with mock caution.

Standing on the street corner, Cameron stepped close, reached up and kissed him. He lazily draped his arms around her waist then slid his hands down her backside, encouraging her to kiss him more deeply.

"Definitely both," he growled, smiling against her lips and giving her a little squeeze.

Cameron laughed quietly then leaned back and smiled at him, "I'm excited for you…"

"It feels good."

Cameron had to laugh a little louder at this, "Running or my ass?"

"Both," he said confidently.

"I'm sure it does," she tried concentrating on the running part, "…it felt good to me, too."

"The running or my hands on your ass?" he asked with a sly grin, obviously finding some humor in the playful cadence of their conversation.

Cameron reached up and kissed him again as she chuckled, "Both."

* * *

House snarled his lip at the nurse sitting behind the desk and grabbed the next patient file from the top of the stack. Of course he wouldn't have felt the need to do that had she not been glaring at him all morning, or then again, maybe he would have. He hated clinic duty. No detox or uber cool prosthesis could fix that. In fact, having an ample Vicodin buzz had probably made it more tolerable but he tried not thinking about that…at all.

House could do free clinic diagnoses with his hands tied behind his back and both eyes closed…and add one leg lopped off for good measure. What a waste of a brilliant mind not to mention quality foosball time, napping time, harassing Wilson time…hell, fill in the blank. But it came with the territory, and Cuddy took every opportunity to remind him of that, trailed predictably with a reminder of how far behind he was due to all the time he'd been off over the past year.

"So…your tummy hurts?" House whined sarcastically as he walked into Exam Room Three.

He turned to the patient to find an older man, House put him at about seventy before he glanced again at his chart; correction, fifty-seven years of age. House quickly lifted his eyes for a double take. He'd been off by thirteen years, so unlike him. But it wasn't him, this guy definitely looked to be seventy - probably due to the sunken facial features. His eyes returned to the chart reading the man's name but he didn't bother to use it. He was thin, unkempt, and dressed in clothes that were clearly too big for him.

"Yeah, my stomach hurts and I feel bloated. I thought it was just my diet but it's been about four weeks now and it hasn't gone away," the patient answered.

"What the hell's your wife been feeding you?" House asked, noticing the wedding band on his left hand.

"No wife," the patient responded, "and I eat okay…most of the time."

"Charitable meals from the kids?" House smirked, unable to curb his curiosity. He was grabbing for anything that could make this the least bit interesting. But chances were this was just another forgettable ulcer.

"I haven't spoken to them in years…what's any of this have to do with my stomach?" he asked, some offense creeping into his voice.

"Lie down and open up your shirt," House instructed.

He watched the man unhook his buttons one at a time while he leaned back on the exam room table, noticing the gold watch on his left hand but couldn't make out the insignia etched on the face.

"Looks like you spent a lot of years somewhere so I'm sure you have good health care. What are you doing at a free clinic?"

The man's eyes narrowed, looking suspicious of House's inappropriate questions.

"What's that got to do with anything?" the man asked, offense was turning into irritation.

"You could have had long-term exposure to something dangerous, I need to know."

Unconvinced, the man answered anyway, "Civil engineer. I worked for the city."

House started to lightly press against the man's abdomen, feeling for any signs of what was causing the pressure and he scoffed, "Now I know for a fact that you have good health care. What in the hell are you boring me for? There are sick and dying poor people out there," he nodded his head sarcastically towards the door.

"Excuse me, but you don't know anything about me," the man said strongly.

"Sshh, I can't feel your tummy when you're yelling at me," he tipped his head and answered patronizingly.

"You're obviously educated, spent enough years working for a well-paying government to earn that watch, but you're alone, your wife dumped you, you've pissed off your kids and really pissed off your liver," House announced, "sit up. You should be retiring in Ft Lauderdale by now…"

"Yeah, thanks for the recap…" the man interrupted, sarcastically.

"So what did you do? Or should I ask, what did you drink…" House paused, "for years?"

"My liver?" the man asked, the defensiveness falling away from his expression and showing some concern.

"Yeah, that thing inside your abdomen that hates you for making it work overtime for…how many years?"

When the man sat up, House pulled out his penlight and confirmed his initial diagnosis seeing the slight yellowish coloring in the man's eyes.

"Does it really matter?" the man asked quietly.

"I have the penlight. I ask the questions," he said waggling it at him, "if you're taking something, I need to know."

"HIPPA says you can't share my files unless I authorize it right?"

"Right," House answered, ready for the payoff.

"Then you should probably know I've been takin' oxy…for my back," the patient paused, "for years…but I don't have a scrip. Or a problem. Just pain…that no one will do anything about."

"I'm not a big drinker though," the man added, like it was some kind of redeeming quality.

"Your liver doesn't know the difference," House smirked but without his usual spunk.

The man waited a moment while House made notes on his file, then he continued, "And I don't have health care because after twenty-seven years they fired me, sons of bitches. All I have left is this pain from an on-the-job accident no less, my family abandoned me, I live in a project and now you're telling me my liver is failing?" The man began to laugh bitterly and shake his head.

He looked at the floor and continued, "Life just up and shit on me…again."

House scribbled on the chart and started talking, "I'm going to order a battery of tests that will tell us exactly what's wrong with your liver and how far it's progressed." He found himself avoiding his eyes.

"No lecture?" the man asked, surprised.

"Nope," House mumbled as he walked out of the room and dropped the chart in the to-be-processed pile. He noticed the nurse resuming her glare and Wilson standing at the desk but he didn't acknowledge either of them.

"When are you off clinic duty?"

"Three," House mumbled, turning away from him and towards the clinic doors.

Wilson laughed and followed after him, "It's twenty till two."

"Yep, taking a walk," he answered flatly, feeling Wilson trailing behind him.

"And don't follow me," he grumbled sincerely over his shoulder as he went through the lobby and out the main entrance into the September afternoon sun.

He walked down the sidewalk with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, trying to distance himself from the hospital and the slightly unnerving reality he'd just been faced with.

He wandered aimlessly across campus and beyond, trying to squelch his thoughts, ignoring his cell phone, certain it was Wilson and his concern. He reasoned that in his career he'd seen dozens of patients like the man he'd just encountered. But it felt like this one had touched a new nerve. Or maybe it was an old nerve that had just been numb, and it felt like he'd been blindsided by a whole new level of awareness. House had hoped he'd already dealt with this but knew dealing with anything wasn't his forte, however, ignoring things was. He liked it that way. But he couldn't deny that the patient's reality certainly would have mirrored his own future had it not been for the past year.

He wandered to corners of campus he'd never seen before until he found himself back at the running park. He sat down on one of the picnic tables, choosing one in the full sunlight. He leaned back and looked out across the park and thought about the many times that he'd been here before and how different everything was now.

Stuffing down hope had become an instinctive reaction for House. Now he found himself sticking his toe in to test the waters and its invitation was becoming more and more attractive. He knew even from his childhood he'd never be the kind to just dive in head first, but maybe he could dare to sit on the edge and dangle his feet once again.

"Hey…" he heard Cameron's voice coming from behind him.

Startled, House quickly turned around then turned his back to her again, answering, "Hey."

Cameron walked around to his side of the table and sat down beside him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked quietly.

"Got bored watching cultures grow," she answered nonchalantly, squinting in the sun and looking off across the grassy field.

After a few moments, Cameron looked back at him, "And I ran into Wilson."

House turned and questioned her, unsure of what kind of scene could have unfolded after he walked out. The clinic staff was way over his drama after years of his antics. Unfortunately, sometimes patients were still pissed off by it.

"Then you didn't answer my call…" Cameron turned away from him again, her explanation trailing away.

"I figured it was Wilson," he offered as an apology.

"It's too nice to be indoors anyway," she answered.

She turned to look at him again, "Everything okay?" she asked, void of too much concern.

House turned back towards the open field giving her a slight nod and she was content with that. The long silence between them was comfortable and he welcomed her company. He knew if he wanted the conversation to stop there, she would let it. She'd proven that to him time and again.

House tried to put the patient out of his mind. It didn't matter now anyway. At one time, that might have been him, but it wasn't anymore, and the single biggest reason why was sitting right next to him. He realized there was likely nothing he could ever do to repay her for helping him to get some semblance of his life back.

The days of hellish pain and the constant struggle to stop it, or even the fear of it returning was slowly becoming a hazy illusion and he had to admit he liked the view from here much better. He wanted her to know how much he acknowledged her part in that but knew that expressing it verbally was simply beyond him. He also knew Cameron was completely accepting of his emotional shortcomings but he wanted to be able show her how much he appreciated having her in his life now. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to try and do something just for her.

Eventually, Cameron broke the long silence, "I suppose my cultures are done by now…I better get back." She turned to him and smiled as she nudged her shoulder into his, "Walk me back?"

House checked his watch and gave her a crooked grin, "Clinic duty's over…sure."

* * *

"It's Friday," Cameron mumbled as she nuzzled up behind him in bed, waking him up. Just when he thought she'd gone back to sleep she kissed him quickly on the back of his shoulder and climbed out of bed.

"I'm not going in today," he groaned when she turned on the light. No call in the middle of the night meant the patient's treatment was still going well and they'd release him today.

Cameron deadpanned playfully from the bathroom, "Yeah, can I not go in today too?"

"Someone has to smile and wave while the patient leaves," he poked at her, returning her playfulness with an unimpressed tone in his voice, "and you do it so well."

"Anyway, someone has to do the paperwork," he groaned again, turning over onto his stomach and burying his face in the pillow. House vaguely remembered hearing her turn on the shower before he found her kissing him again on the cheek. The smell of her freshly washed hair and light perfume made him give her a sleepy smile. The next time he looked at the clock it read ten-thirty and he rolled himself out of bed.

After a lazy shower and some left over pizza, House emptied his backpack onto the kitchen table and started packing. With limited space he decided they could share most things but a few things they obviously could not, like underwear and jeans. He shoved in her low-rise Levi's, his favorite of course, and a handful of her cotton bikini panties. She'd need her own tennis shoes too but he figured that was it. She wore his shirts anyway, so he threw in enough for the both of them then went to the bathroom for only the necessary toiletries.

Counting on gratuity shampoo he passed on packing theirs. He opened the medicine cabinet, stood back and debated the items thinking toothbrush and toothpaste were definitely a must. Deodorant…she could use his. Thinking that should be enough to survive, he started to close the medicine cabinet when he spotted Cameron's birth control.

He picked them up and thoughtfully held them in his hand. He remembered their conversation what felt like forever ago now and how Cameron had told him how she'd come to marry Blake. He wondered about her thoughts on having kids and if she still felt the same way about not deserving them. Of course there was the possibility that she'd only said that for his sake but he trusted Cameron's integrity more than that. He vividly remembered holding her after she told him what had happened, feeling her trembling as she exposed herself to him like that. There was no way Cameron had been anything but honest with him, he knew this, but he wondered if she still felt the same.

Being a parent was one of those things that never crossed House's thoughts. But after turning the idea over in his mind a couple of times, he knew that if that's something she wanted he would consider it. The idea of him being a father scared the shit out of him but Cameron being a mother just felt natural…and sexy.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable with his thoughts, House quickly stuffed the plastic pill case into one of the smaller pockets on his pack. On his way out he spotted their season one of The Tick DVD. With an ornery smirk, he managed to find just enough room for it in the bag. He knew it was a ridiculous notion that The Tick could make anyone horny but it was too much fun needling Cameron about it and he had just enough room so what the hell. House took one last scan of the apartment trying to think of anything he might have forgotten then left for the hospital.

* * *

Cameron was sitting at her desk finishing up the case notes for their patient they'd released that morning when Mo leaned into her office, "Think House would care if I just knock off early today?"

"Got big plans for the weekend?" Cameron looked up from her computer and smiled pleasantly at him.

"Trying to get away for a change," he answered.

"Why don't you just call him? I don't know where he's at," she suggested returning her attention to her work.

Mo disappeared into the conference room and Cameron glanced at the clock on her computer; 1:45pm. House had stayed behind this morning, insisting that she could handle the paperwork on her own but Cameron suspected he'd overdone it playing basketball with Wilson _and_ taking a run with her. After running together every night that week, Cameron was finally starting to feel some of her old stamina returning, and feeling every muscle ache as she rolled out of bed the next day was a small price to pay. She stared mindlessly at the monitor in front of her, feeling herself back on the sidewalks of their neighborhood with House at her side.

"I'm out," Mo announced, startling her.

"Oh hey…have a good weekend," Cameron returned weakly knowing he wouldn't hear her anyway since he was already out the door and headed down the hallway.

Cameron dutifully returned her attention to the case notes, trying to get it behind her so she, too, could get started on her weekend. A quiet couple of days with no cases sounded very inviting.

She was surprised to see House come walking in with her leather jacket in his hand and his backpack slung across one shoulder.

"Good morning," she deadpanned sarcastically as he walked by without acknowledging her.

She watched him toss the bag and jacket and head directly for his computer. Finishing up the final details, she sent the forms to his printer and walked into his office catching him grabbing something from the bottom of the printer stack and shoving it under a file. She grinned and eyed him suspiciously then picked up the remaining papers and dropped them in the middle of his desk, handing him her pen. House flipped through the pages, signing on the last one then handed them back to her. Doing all this while obviously distracted with…something.

"I'm glad to see you could make it in today," she said off-handedly.

House ignored her, "Do you mind?" he motioned her towards the door, "I have work to do."

"Don't let me stop you," Cameron mumbled as she walked out his door, letting it close behind her. She shut down her laptop and tidied up her desk, glancing over at House through the walls. She saw him studying a sheet of paper then carefully fold it before stuffing it into the back pocket of his jeans.

"What's up?" she asked as he pushed his way through her door.

"Nothing," he said shortly then added, "lock your laptop up in the drawer. It's not coming with us."

Cameron chuckled, amused and curious about why House was acting so strange, "How about my purse?"

House thought for a second, "No…but bring your wallet."

"Okay. So if the laptop's not coming with us…just where are _we_ going?"

House smirked at her, "That's for me to know and you to find out."

Cameron handed over her wallet and he guardedly stuffed it into his backpack. He walked out her door just expecting that she would follow. Cameron quickly locked up her computer and jogged out the door after him.

"_That_ was mature," she rolled her eyes at his retreating back, "you're acting weird."

House handed over her leather jacket, and once outside, Cameron pulled it on. In hindsight of the accident, both of them had bought Kevlar armored riding jackets as a little extra protection. Not that it would have prevented any of their injuries but they were still a good idea and House had needed a new one anyway. His was black with grey and blue stripes down the arms with the same blue and grey stripes making a 'V' across his back. Cameron's was simply black.

He let the backpack drop from his shoulder then handed it to Cameron. When she reached for it, she noticed how heavy it was even without her laptop.

"What ya got in here?" she asked getting more and more curious the longer this went on.

She looked up and gave him a bratty little grin while she moved her hand towards the zipper, threatening to open it and expose his plan.

House just gave her a playful warning back, "You wanna ruin it? Go ahead. I won't stop you."

Fingers on the zipper, she locked eyes with him, but he kept true to his word and refused to try and stop her. She finally relented and rolled her eyes at him as she slung it over her back and hooked her arms under the straps. She took her helmet from her seat and strapped it on while House did the same. He got on first, swinging his right leg over the back of the bike, helping guide his prosthetic. Once he settled on, Cameron climbed on behind him.

A hint of excitement poked at Cameron, while he started up the engine and she wrapped her arms tight around him.

They stayed on the country roads for a good half-hour before House finally decided on the expressway, riding for at least another hour or so. Cameron was starting to realize this wasn't just a joy ride for the sake of getting on the bike, House was up to something and whatever was in his backpack probably held the secret. But Cameron was stuck, getting to the pack or even getting to her phone to see how long they'd been riding just wasn't possible. How convenient for House to have her on the back of his bike keeping her from relentlessly hounding him with questions. She resigned to let herself enjoy the flutter of excitement that was building the farther away from New Jersey they got.

By the time he finally exited the highway, Cameron was at a complete loss at trying to decide what he was up to, and it didn't answer any questions when House pulled into a Burger King parking lot and turned off the engine. She started to climb off the bike when her body reminded her of two things. One, she had shocked her muscles with actual _exercise_ several evenings prior and two, she hadn't moved from the seat of the bike for at least three hours. Cameron pulled the phone out of her pocket and looked at the time: correction, four hours.

She pulled off her helmet and ran her hands through her hair, "Are you going to tell me where we're going?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he scoffed jokingly indicating towards the restaurant with his elbow while he lifted his helmet off of his head.

"We drove four hours and passed dozens of other Burger Kings for a Whopper in…" Cameron paused as she looked around for signs of where they might be. When she came up empty, she just finished with a weak, "wherever we are?"

"I know we're somewhere in Pennsylvania," she added.

House unhooked the backpack from Cameron's shoulders and eyed her suspiciously as he flung it over his for safekeeping. She snickered a little, noticing that House was definitely walking like he'd just spent the last four hours on a bike, too. Once inside, he made his way towards the men's room and Cameron decided she'd better do the same. When she came out, she was startled by House leaning against the wall just outside the ladies' room holding a pair of her jeans and tennis shoes.

He shoved them towards her saying, "Those shoes are sucking the cool right out of my bike."

"Had I known we were riding cross country, I would have tried to spare your bike the humiliation," Cameron laughed, grabbing the clothes and backing into the ladies' room again.

She quickly removed the slacks and admittedly clunky shoes she'd worn to work that day and replaced them with the ones House had mysteriously appeared with. The jeans felt good, and the tennis shoes felt even better. She stepped out into the hall and joined House already in line to order his food. She reached for the backpack, indicating she was going to put her clothes away when House laughed lightly and held her eyes, "Nice try."

No more than twenty minutes and they were back on the road with a fresh new tank of gasoline. Cameron settled into him and let herself enjoy just going along with whatever House had in mind. He was never one for big surprises or big productions and neither was she. Wherever it was, they were going there together. But House of all people acting this way was really quite unexpected, and that alone was adding to her excitement.

Cameron's thoughts wandered to the past few months. Even just a short year ago, she had been so broken-hearted being kept at arm's length while watching House's life spinning out of control that she'd only been left with one option, turn her back and try to forget him. Just the thought of how closely that came to becoming her reality made her tighten her arms around his waist. She dared to imagine where she would be and what she would be doing now had he let her leave his apartment and not asked for help. She was quite certain that wherever she would have ended up, she'd have never been able to completely forget him.

Thinking of the accident, she would have never wished such a horrific thing on him but at the same time, the place that it led him to felt like it more than made up for all the pain it had caused. But Cameron was just a beneficiary of those events. To her, it felt like an intrusion to even be thinking about it because it was _his_ pain and _his_ experience, and _his_ place to decide how he felt about it. Not hers.

But in that moment, after everything, they were in a sweet place and time was better spent looking forwards, not backwards.

Dusk came and went before House finally left the highway again. He passed all the fast food joints and gas stations making Cameron wonder if they might almost be there, wherever there was. Her excitement grew even more. Several more minutes on some side roads and he finally pulled up in front of a stately old timber house nestled in a wooded area with a railed front porch that spanned the entire front section. There was a big front yard with a single narrow pathway leading from the hanging sign that read "Granville Inn" to the front door. It was hard to see much more than that in the darkness but the amber glow coming from the windows gave them a warm invitation.

House opened the front door and they were greeted with a large room consisting of a rugged two-sided stone fireplace in the middle. It was sectioned off into a small dining area and a sunken lounge area with couches, over-stuffed chairs, two small wooden tables and a large screen TV. The floors were weathered hardwood that looked as old as the house, and the ceilings were vaulted with a quiet loft off to one side.

House made his way directly to an older woman with short graying hair who was busy behind the front desk. Cameron meandered around the dining room void of any activity except a couple in the corner enjoying a lazy conversation and coffee. With one hand stuffed in the pocket of her jeans and the other holding her helmet, she stopped to read the menu posted for tomorrow's breakfast.

She wondered how House ever found this place. She wasn't quite sure where they were but most of the signs still read Pennsylvania. It was beautiful and quaint and…romantic. In the year that they'd been together, apart from the clinic in Michigan, they'd never been out of New Jersey.

She stepped down into the lounge area and skimmed through the titles of books and DVDs that lined the shelf beside the TV. Then she was drawn to one of the tables where a half-constructed puzzle of a John Deere tractor in an old barn was scattered out in no less than about five hundred pieces. She picked up a piece and examined it, looking at the picture on the box, and mindlessly wondered where it might fit.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed House standing at the top of the single step that led to where she was and she turned and looked at him, "Nice place." She hitched her eyebrows and gave him a very impressed grin.

"Worth the ride?" he questioned.

She let out a quiet but obvious laugh letting him know that was an understatement, "Absolutely."

"Well, we're upstairs," he said nodding his head in the direction of the large open staircase behind the front desk. As Cameron walked by him he relieved her of the backpack she was still carrying but had given up trying to figure out what was inside. Either it was a surprise she had no interest in spoiling now or it was more likely just overnight clothes that he had packed for them.

House unlocked the door to their room. It was modestly decorated in deep blues, greens, and maroons with all the furniture made of a light honey oak. A small lit lamp in the corner welcomed them.

"_Very_ nice," Cameron repeated emphatically, nodding her head.

She tossed her helmet and jacket on the bed then walked towards the window, curious of what was behind the house. It was dark and all she could see was the moon casting just a faint amount of light on nothing but trees.

"How'd you find this place?" Cameron asked as she turned around, not realizing he was walking up behind her, making her no longer interested in the answer.

She slid her arms around his waist and looked up at him, "So what's the occasion?"

"No occasion."

"It's September nineteenth," she smiled lightly at him.

"I know…no occasion," he dismissed the idea, clearly communicating he had no intentions of giving any homage to being clean for the past year.

"Then what's this all about?" she questioned him, a little curious at his mood.

He gave a little shrug and shook his head slightly before leaning down to kiss her for the first time that day. He ran both hands up and down her arms before moving them to her back and pulling her closer to him, deepening their kiss. Cameron settled in for a nice long go of it, leisurely exchanging turns at exploring each other.

House eventually pulled away and turned his attention to the window behind her.

"What did you see out there?"

"Not much…trees. It was kind of hard to see," Cameron answered as House let go of her and moved towards the window to see for himself.

"Wanna go check it out?" he turned and asked her.

"Sure," she chuckled.

"You're paying enough for this place…you should see more than just the ceiling of our room," he smirked at her, finally acting a little more like himself.

"Nice, House. That's real classy," she laughed.

"Yeah, I thought so too," he said, trying to one-up her sarcasm, "I thought it was the least you could do for me driving you all the way here. Let's go."

They wandered downstairs and through the French doors that lead onto a huge deck. There was enough light shining from the inside out to see that it appeared to be hovering over a ravine. There were a few tables with closed umbrellas and several other benches and lounge chairs. At the far end was an old iron fire pit with a stack of wood along the railing.

"Hey, got a lighter?" House asked enthusiastically.

"Not since I kicked my habit," she answered flatly.

"Go inside and see if they have one," he ordered as he grabbed a piece of wood from the stack.

Cameron went inside and by the time she'd bothered the front desk attendant, hunted down the housekeeping manager, and finally returned with a box of matches they dug out of the kitchen, House had already somehow started a fire in the pit.

"How'd you do that?" Cameron asked, mocking some frustration.

"The lighter in that box over there?" he answered sheepishly, not turning to look at her while he poked at the wood trying to encourage the flames.

"And you couldn't come in and stop me from bothering the entire night staff?" she laughed.

House just looked at her and gave her a smart-ass grin.

"Yeah, well throw these in the box over there too then," Cameron kept up her fake aggravation, tossing the carton of matches in front of him.

She dragged one of the lounge chairs close to the fire and waited for House to sit down before sitting between his legs. He automatically wrapped his arms around her torso, pulling her back into him so she could lean her head on his chest and hug his arms around her. There was just enough chill in the air that House's arms and the little bit of heat coming from the fire made it comfortable.

House leaned his head back and Cameron looked up only finding just a sliver of the moon and a lot more stars than she could see from Princeton. House's chest was lightly rising and falling behind her as they sat there in the quiet just enjoying being together and away from everything that so frequently intruded on their lives.

"So what else is in the backpack?" Cameron finally asked.

"The Tick versus Season One," he answered nonchalantly, his chest rumbling underneath her.

Cameron couldn't help it but there was no way she could ever explain it in a way that anyone could understand the thoughts that would go through her mind at the mention of that cartoon. It just always took her back to an innocent night spent on the couch with his head resting on her lap. There was obviously nothing disturbingly erotic about an overgrown man in blue insect-like Spandex but House had somewhere along the way picked up on the notion and Cameron couldn't help but go along with it.

But more than just her memories of that night, her thoughts went back to the rest of the time they'd spent at the clinic. While she tried pushing certain images away, she held tightly to the feeling of him asking her to be there for him, growing closer in the process, and the trust, albeit limited, he finally handed over to her, letting her touch his scar. Then there was the sensation of kissing him for the first time. Even now, after everything had changed so much, Cameron's heart still raced a little – all ridiculously prompted by a silly super hero cartoon.

"You know some people have to buy their sex toys at one of those adult book stores. You just get yours from the cartoon section at Blockbuster."

"Got a problem with that?" House tried to sound defensive and hurt.

"Nope," Cameron answered quickly and definitively.

"Good," House mumbled then the air fell quiet between them except for the occasional pop or crack of the fire.

Cameron watched the flames until her eyes grew heavy. She slipped in and out of sleep, watching the fire slowly die until House nudged her, "Get up. Let's go have sex."

"Okay," Cameron snorted a sleepy laugh.

House nudged her again when she didn't get up quickly enough for him then she finally climbed off of the chair and waited for him to stand.

When he finally managed to get up, Cameron stood in front of him and took each of his hands. She smiled and looked sincerely into his eyes, "Thank you for this."

"Thank you for everything else," he countered then looked away from her for a few seconds before looking back.

"I've never once questioned what I wanted, House. I'd gladly do all of it all over again if I knew it would bring me here…with you." Cameron thought for a moment then laughed awkwardly, "That sounded corny."

Not acknowledging her embarrassment, he lifted his hand to let his thumb lightly graze her cheek, letting his fingers reach towards the back of her neck.

"I love you," he said quietly and held her eyes without looking away.

Cameron reached blindly for a coherent thought – any coherent thought. She stood there for a moment, conscious of every breath and every beat pounding in her chest while his eyes held confidently to hers.

Her hand felt weak as she smoothed it across his chest and then trailed her fingertips lightly down his arm until she could rub her thumb across the back of his hand and said, "I hope you know how much I love you too."

He continued holding her gaze and nodded slightly with a contemplative and crooked smile creeping across his face. Cameron returned his smile, completely lost in the moment and in his eyes.

"Sex. Now," she finally said abruptly, still unable to pull herself together.

They took no time at all getting upstairs and back to their room. Everything happened so fast and recklessly until Cameron found herself lying in the middle of the bed, literally aching for him and then he stopped. He gave her an urgent but thoughtful look before resting his weight carefully on top of her, holding only his head and shoulders above her. He leaned down and his chest heaved against hers, trying to regain control of his breathing. He kissed her slowly and gently on the mouth, his tongue asking for permission and Cameron welcomed him. It was warm and affectionate and a noticeable contrast to the way he'd pulled off her clothes in the three steps it took to get from the door to the bed. Cameron had no quarrels either way so it was only out of curiosity that she pulled away and looked at him, "Is everything okay?"

"I just want this to mean something," he offered, uncertain of his words.

"It _always_ means something…" Cameron reassured him.

"Then I want it to mean more," he admitted.

"Okay…" she answered and kissed him softly, trying to bite back her desire to feel him inside of her. But the excitement of whatever that meant wasn't going to let her. In that moment, she knew she would do anything he wanted her to do, he only had to ask. So, she rested her head back, closed her eyes and waited for him.

He fumbled for her hands and when he found them he took her wrists, holding them above her head on the pillow. He kissed her on the mouth then slowly left her lips and moved down the side of her neck, alternating kisses with nuzzles of his rough face. He followed her collarbone on to her shoulder then the under side of her arm. Cameron tensed instinctively and failed to hold back a quiet snicker at the feeling of his beard sending chills down her spine and back up.

The prickly sensation quickly disappeared and she soon heard him whisper 'sorry' as he kissed her ear. Cameron refused to open her eyes but she could almost sense the unapologetic grin across his face.

She could feel how ready he was but he surprised her by rolling off and lying on his side next to her. Cameron opened her eyes to see him looking thoughtfully at her breasts and she wanted to reach up and encourage him to take her in his mouth but she chose to let him decide what he wanted to do next. So she closed her eyes again, keeping her hands above her head, enjoying the vulnerability she felt laying there in front of him. There was a certain erotic satisfaction that came with trusting him.

Slowly he began touching her; sometimes with the wet softness of his lips and tongue. Other times it was the roughness of his fingertips or his chin. It was obvious he had paid close attention over the months to what she liked best, and with her eyes closed it was impossible to predict where he would go next. That alone had Cameron's entire body on edge and kept her breathing ragged and shallow. Every moment of contact and every movement felt like he was saying something different and she listened patiently and attentively.

She wanted him inside her but she didn't want him to stop and he continued far longer than she ever expected he would. Cameron had never experienced anything so selfless – so completely about her. As much as she wanted to answer his touches, she also wanted to let him do this for her. Especially if this was the meaning he was looking for.

Anticipation becoming almost intolerable, she opened her eyes again and lifted her head to silently plead with him. One hand pressing slightly against her abdomen and the other one resting on her opposite knee, he grinned and dipped down to stroke his chin against the inside of her thigh again then soothed it with a soft kiss. Cameron dropped her head back to the pillow, feeling tingling pulses radiate through her entire body.

Moving back onto her, she finally felt him begin to slide slowly and deliberately into her. She opened her eyes and he held hers with his, further heightening the sensation, until he closed them and the expression on his face mirrored her own pleasure. Cameron reached behind his neck and pulled him into a kiss feeling him immediately begin to move, an occasional groan escaping from the back of his throat.

Fearing that she was too far ahead, she tried holding herself back for him but it was quickly slipping out of her control. Like any of this had been in her control to begin with. But she wanted desperately to wait for him.

"Let it go…" he broke their kiss and gasped quietly in her ear.

His words and his insistence pushed her to orgasm and no more than two thrusts later he joined her.

She buried her face in his shoulder and kissed it, holding tightly to his back while they both tried to catch their breath. Eventually, he made a move to roll off of her and she wrapped her arms even tighter around him, "Stay."

"Okay," he nuzzled into her neck and relaxed back into her as Cameron ran her fingers through his hair and held to the back of his head.

She listened to his breathing begin to slow along with hers and she casually thought about how the absence of his right leg felt as natural to her now as they did. His absence of pain and both of them now being more at ease with his leg had opened up so many new and adventurous opportunities for them sexually. But as fun as that had been, the emotional depth that House added tonight was new and a little unexpected. House's way of expressing himself without words was something she never wanted to see change, because words would have paled in comparison to what his actions had just said to her.

Cameron wondered how the connection between them could become any stronger than it just had. But she had often wondered that before. Feeling his weight against her, smelling his scent, feeling his warm breath on the side of her neck, Cameron tried but failed to wrap her mind around the depth of what she felt for him and what they had between them.

"I don't want you to ever doubt how much I love you," she said quietly in his ear.

"I don't anymore," he quickly responded, his face still buried half in the pillow and half against the side of her neck.

"So what kind of surprises do you have in store for me tomorrow?" Cameron finally joked into his shoulder, poking fun at the fact that there's likely no way he could top what he'd done that day.

"I dunno…another six hour ride I guess," he said sounding discouraged, propping himself up with his elbows at her sides.

"We're going back so soon?" Cameron whined.

"Who said we were going back?" he smirked as he finally rolled off of her.

Cameron turned on her side to face him and propped herself up on her elbow, eyebrows furrowed, begging an explanation.

House turned to look at her and grinned deviously then turned his face back towards the ceiling.

Cameron laughed and waited for him to look at her again, "I can wait as long as you can," she challenged.

"Okay," he said turning on his side and away from her. He pulled the covers up to his shoulders and settled in.

"You're a jerk," Cameron snipped lightheartedly to his back.

"I know," he mumbled tiredly.

Cameron grabbed his shoulder and pulled him onto his back. House didn't resist very strongly.

"What? I'm tired…I drove a long way today," he whined.

"Where are we going tomorrow?" she insisted.

"I thought you said you could wait…" he turned and grinned at her in a way that made Cameron want to jump him again…as soon as she got her answer, of course.

"Okay…forget I said that. C'mon…" she pleaded.

"Well…" he dragged out, looking back towards the ceiling, "the other day I talked to this whiney little punk who misses his big sister something terrible." House turned to see her expression.

"It was really pretty pathetic…" he mumbled mostly to himself but definitely for Cameron's benefit while she tried to grasp what he'd just said to her.

Cameron could feel her mouth slightly gaping open as she stared blankly at him. She had just assumed that if she were to visit Sam anytime in the future she was going to have to do it without House…which made her sad since they were clearly the two most important men in her life. Although things had not gone as well as she'd hoped while Sam had visited, she had to admit her expectations had been set a little too high given the circumstances. The new, more relaxed, opportunity made her hopeful, and it made her strangely curious just to think the two of them had spoken on the phone without her intervention. Cameron would love nothing more than for Sam and House to form some kind of friendship. It didn't have to be anything earth shattering. But knowing them both as well as she did, she knew how possible it was, at least.

"I swear you'd better not be lying," she warned strongly then a smile spanned the width of her face.

"I wish I was," House moaned, trying to play the martyr, "that was probably the last time we'll have sex for like a week."

Cameron let out a loud and rather un-lady-like 'YES!' and draped her entire body on top of House's, forcing an exaggerated 'umph' sound out of him.

"A week!?" she asked excitedly, then noticed the unimpressed look on his face and realized what he'd just said, "oh I was cheering about the staying with Sam for a week part, not the not having sex for a week part."

Cameron felt herself sinking very quickly so she grabbed both cheeks and planted a wet and sloppy kiss on him then propped herself up on his chest and looked into his eyes, "You know I could never get enough of you."

House just gave her an arrogant and presumptuous grin then waggled his eyebrows at her, "Sam can't get the whole week off work."

At that, an ornery grin played across Cameron's face knowing exactly what he meant by that. She thought for a moment and supposed she could give in to having sex in Sam's apartment as long as he wasn't there.

"What about our work?" she asked.

"I dunno about you…but Cuddy was glad to hear she wouldn't be seeing my face for a few days."

Then he looked at her as seriously as he could, "But you're going to have to clear your vacation with your boss…and I hear he's one grumpy son of a bitch. Especially when faced with the idea of no sex for _days_," he stressed and even closed his eyes for added drama.

Cameron leaned down and kissed him enthusiastically again and laughed into his mouth, "He is a grumpy son of a bitch, but maybe I can wear him down," she growled in his ear.

Cameron bit playfully at his bottom lip and House wrapped his arms tight around her, pulling her into him and answered, "I dunno about that. But feel free to…"

His words were interrupted by Cameron's knee grinding hard into his groin. House squeezed his eyes shut and took in a sharp breath, letting it out slowly. Eyes still closed, a satisfied smile erupted across his face as he moaned, "That's my girl. Vacation approved."


End file.
